First Kiss: A collection of Jeslie oneshots
by sawyerzelda
Summary: The title basically describes it, but I try to stay faithful to this amazing book. Oneshots vary from the tragic to the more tragic, most likely. aka Leslie will die most of the time. if you can accept it, though, i would like to know what ppl think.
1. Nothing Crushes Us

**A/N**: Okay, I know I said I wouldn't be back for a while, but then I realized I had this (and had forgotten to upload it). I doubt this will attract my usual fan base (to whom I'm sorry if you got excited thinking I'd added a new Zelda story), though, so you may just want to ignore what I just said.

Anyway, I feel totally lame because I think it's so stupid when people write fan fiction and bring a dead character back to life, especially with a story like Bridge to Terabithia where the death is kind of the point. And yet I somehow had to write this.  
**Info**: Jess and Leslie are 13, and this is from **Jess**' point of view.

**:::&-:::**

There she was, the most beautiful girl in school. I smiled at her as she walked into the classroom, saw me, and came to sit down next to me with a huge grin on her face. Middle school is, I guess, the turning point for most guys—that is, we start seeing girls as more than gross beings mostly unlike us. My girlfriend is proof of that.

Her name is Emily Wilson. She has dark, brown hair that is usually pulled into a ponytail draped over her shoulder. I feel like I could stare into her light brown eyes forever, and every time I see her I am just bowled over by her beauty. We have been a couple for almost three weeks now, and the less mature guys have finally stopped their childish teasing.

"Morning, Jess," she said warmly to me.

"Morning, Emily," I said back.

She looked up over my shoulder. "Hi, Leslie."

"Hey." Leslie sat down on my other side, looking a bit distraught. Emily's eyes narrowed slightly as I enthusiastically greeted my best friend: "Hey Leslie! Maybelle wanted me to thank you for giving her all those old horse toys. She says they're even better than the Barbies."

"Oh, sure, no problem," Leslie said, trying to smile but still sounding (and looking) as if she had only gotten two hours of sleep. Slumped over on her desk, she tried not to make eye contact with me—or Emily.

"You all right?" I asked, patting her on the back.

I felt her stiffen. "I'm fine, just a little tired."

In retrospect, I probably should not have acted so friendly towards Leslie when my girlfriend was sitting right there. In my defense, though, Emily was the first I had ever had, so if my tact wasn't perfect it was because I didn't know any better. Emily never said anything, but I often got the feeling that she disliked Leslie.

After class had started, I noticed Leslie doodling idly in her notebook instead of paying attention. At least, she _looked _like she wasn't paying attention. When the teacher called on her (that way teachers do, thinking they've caught you on the spot), I smirked, excited to see our teacher's face when Leslie would respond with a clever answer.

"What?" Leslie said (to my surprise).

"I asked you whether or not you could tell me the answer to this problem," Mr. Burgess, the teacher, said in a more stern voice. "How can we add ½ and ¾ together?"

Leslie stared at the chalkboard as if the problem there was written in another language. I was worried; this was very unlike her. Most of the time when it looked like she was zoning out, she could still retain most of what a teacher was saying. Now, however, she seemed totally lost. Squinting at the board she said, "Wouldn't you… I mean wouldn't you just _add _them? And you'd get… 4 over 6?"

"That is incorrect, Ms. Burke," Mr. Burgess said in a snobbish tone. "Perhaps someone else could give me an answer?"

There was silence, and then I saw Emily's hand go up. My feeling of annoyance about the teacher's attitude towards Leslie changed swiftly into pride as my girlfriend (I love saying that—_my _girlfriend) gave a very intelligent response. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Leslie shake her head before slumping over her desk again. After the bell had rung and we'd been given our assignments, I left Leslie to speak alone with Mr. Burgess and followed Emily into the hallway.

"What do you think was wrong with Leslie today?" I asked her. "That was so weird and unlike her."

"Oh, I don't know," Emily said lightly. "If you ask me, it looks like she's been on something lately."

"_On_ something?" I asked, not really catching on.

"Come on, Jess," she laughed. "Everybody knows her parents are like, hippies. She calls them by their first names. They probably all take LSD together—"

"Don't say things like that," I interrupted her harshly. "Don't you _ever_ say something like that about them again! The Burkes are great people, including Bill and Judy! They might be a little more… I don't know, eccentric than my parents or yours, but they would never do something like that with Leslie. And besides, she wouldn't need LDS—" (give me a break; I was innocent and in seventh grade) "—because she's too smart and too imaginative!"

Emily raised an eyebrow at me, probably because that last sentence had sounded a little pathetic. She sighed and opened her locker, dumping her things inside. "I'm sorry, Jess," and she sounded sincere. "You're right. It wasn't my idea, really, I just overheard Mary Jensen speculating about it."

"Yeah, well, you can tell Mary to shut up about that the next time you see her," I growled, twiddling the lock next to hers.

Emily closed her locker and put her hand on mine. "That'll be right now, because I'm challenging her for first chair flute! Sorry it has to be during lunch, but… I'll see you in Social Studies, okay?" She squeezed my hand, and I felt a million butterflies explode in my stomach.

"Okay," I said, an almost unwilling smile coming onto my face. She grinned back at me, and then I watched her walk down the hall until she was out of sight. I was brought out of my reverie when a locker behind me closed shut with a bang. I wheeled around and saw Leslie there.

"Well, hi!" she said, a little too cheerfully to sound real.

"Oh, hey," I said, walking towards her. "Emily's got a band thing right now, so… do you want to eat together?" We usually always did, but ever since I started going out with Emily, Leslie had been eating somewhere else.

She looked apprehensive. "Um, okay… sure." Once I'd gotten my paper sack lunch from my own locker, we headed for the immense cafeteria. We took an empty table at the end of the room and sat down on opposite sides. For a few minutes we ate in awkward silence, neither of us really knowing what to say. Finally I decided someone had to say something, otherwise this would be a complete waste of an Emily-less lunch.

"So, what did you want to talk to Mr. Burgess about after class?" I asked for lack of anything better to say.

"_He_ was the one who wanted to talk to _me_," she said, ripping the crust off her sandwich with what I considered unnecessary vehemence. "You might have noticed that had you been a little less busy staring at Emily Wilson's legs."

"I was staring at the homework board," I lied, blushing slightly. "Making sure I got the due date right. If I hand in my homework late again, Burgess will give me detention, you know that!"

"Why don't you just get Emily to do your homework for you?" Leslie asked in an uncharacteristically vicious tone. "She'd be a lot better at helping you with it than me—Burgess said that if I don't get at least a B on my next test, I'll fail the quarter!"

"Leslie, what's going on with you?" I asked, perhaps being more blunt than was called for. "You're a _great_ student!"

"I don't know," she half-sighed, half-hissed as if she couldn't decide whether or not she wanted to remain angry towards me. "I just don't get math." There were a few more minutes of silence. Then, "Hey Jess." Her voice was softer now. "Remember Terabithia?"

What had caused her to bring that up? We hadn't been to Terabithia—let alone discussed it—in over a year. "Of course I do!" I said, smiling a little at this. "How could I possibly forget it?"

"Everything used to be so easy," she sighed. "So simple … sometimes I just wish I could go back to Terabithia, fight out all our problems there."

She looked so sad; I wanted to take her hand like Emily had taken mine. Outside, a cloud moved out from in front of the sun and the rays hit her hair, making it look as golden as the room we'd painted long ago…

"Leslie." I said it to get her to look at me, and she did; she stared up at me as she took a long sip out of the straw in her milk carton. Her eyes were brown like Emily's, but much darker and almost a little green, reflecting the shirt she had chosen to wear today. It was the first time all day—or it even seemed like days—that she had looked me in the eye, and I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

She was pretty.

I opened my mouth to speak, when all of a sudden someone walked up and did it for me. "Ooooh, Jess! Eating with Leslie? What's Emily going to think?!" It was Wanda Moore. "As for you, Leslie Burke—what, did the custodian come in and kick you out of the bathroom this time? Need to clean?"

Leslie blushed; I rolled my eyes and told Wanda to beat it. Once she and her giggling gaggle of friends had gone, I looked over at Leslie in confusion. "What was with that joke about the bathroom? Is that where you've been eating?"

"No," she sniffed, resting her face in her hands like she was trying to cover the redness. "Well… only sometimes."

"But—why?!" It was like she was the new kid all over again, the weirdo no one wanted to be associated with. Why had she felt the need to isolate herself? "Leslie, why do you want to be alone?"

She shrugged solemnly. "I dunno, I guess it's just that none of the other kids really seem to know what to make of me. They tolerate my presence, but beyond that, I'm just the weird girl who could out-run all the boys." Leslie took her empty milk carton and crushed it calmly, as if it was Wanda Moore. "Nobody really understands me."

"I understand you," I said.

Leslie's eyes looked past me and she stood up. Gathering her things and noting my questioning expression she muttered, "I don't think _she _does."

As Leslie walked out of the cafeteria, I jumped when Emily unexpectedly plopped down next to me on the bench. "Hey, Jess!"

"Oh—hi," I said, turning to look at her. "That was quick."

"Well, it turns out Mr. Jordan wasn't there, so we couldn't really do the challenge without him, you know? But whatever, we'll try again tomorrow. So…" Her tone became almost business-like (which I had come to understand meant she was approaching a touchy subject). "What did Leslie want?"

"We were just eating together," I answered casually. "Don't read anything into it, Emily." She looked tensed, so I said, "Relax. Leslie is just a friend, I've known her for so long. Being into her would be like being into my sister!" After which I reckoned, _only I can stand to be around Leslie for longer than two seconds_.

Emily relaxed. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," I said patiently. "_You're_ the one I'm going out with, Em, and _you _are the one I'm taking to the Spring Dance tomorrow." But even as I said it, a small part of me seemed to be picturing Leslie there, in a beautiful dress and escorted by a faceless stranger. I got that weird feeling in my stomach again, kind of like I wanted to punch something. I needed to chill. Subject change. "Oh, Emily, do you think you could help me with the Burgess assignment? I don't really understand it…"

On the bus ride home, I sat with Emily and she continued to assist me with my math. Every now and then my eyes involuntarily darted to the blonde top I could see a few seats ahead; I knew Leslie was sitting there, either alone or accompanied by some annoying little kid.

"Here's my stop," Emily said as the bus began to slow down.

"No, wait!" I laughed. "I still don't understand this one…!"

Both of us laughing, I followed her off the bus and chased her up the stone walk to her modest house. On the doorstep she scribbled one last thing on my sheet and then put her hand on the knob. She put her hand on the doorknob, but before going inside, turned and let her lips quickly brush my cheek.

I barely made it to the bus in time; the driver had been threatening to shut the doors on me. Grinning ear to ear and probably looking like an idiot, I headed back to my seat, then changed my mind and sat down next to Leslie. The place where Emily's mouth had touched my face burned as if she'd branded me; it was the most exhilarating feeling.

Leslie was staring out the window, completely ignoring me. "Hi," I said to get her attention, a little breathless.

"Hi," she sighed back. It just occurred to me that she might have seen Emily kiss me from the window when she said, "Have you kissed her before?"

"No," I told her quickly. "I never have. And she's never kissed me before, either. I mean unless you really count what she did just now." I resisted the urge to lovingly rub the spot where I could still feel her kiss linger.

It was probably just my imagination, but I felt like Leslie was trying not to scowl at me. When the bus reached our street, I wouldn't get up. She stared at me either like I was crazy or like she was going to hit me. I stared back.

"Come on, Jess, let's _go_," she said, nudging me.

"Yeah, let's go," I repeated. "To the place."

A smile of comprehension dawned on her face and she nodded; together we leapt up and ran off the bus. We casually flung our backpacks to the ground and sped through the trees to that sacred place, our Terabithia. When we got to the river, we came to an almost simultaneous halt. Our beloved rope was still there, but it looked a little worse for wear. Leslie frowned.

"I'll test it first," I volunteered.

"No Jess, don't," she said, grabbing my arm to stop me. "It looks dangerous."

Trying to ignore the fact that I'd felt a bolt of electricity surge through my body when she grabbed my arm, I gently pried her fingers off. "Calm down, my Queen. The King of Terabithia fears nothing." I took hold of the rope, pulled on it—it felt secure enough—braced myself, and swung across. As usual I disappeared into the shrubbery on the other side.

"Jess?" she called after me when I didn't say anything. "JESS!"

I was getting some kind of twisted pleasure out of hearing the worry in her voice, like I was glad she was so concerned about me. Finally deciding I'd let her on long enough, I swung the rope back to her as hard as I could. I heard her laugh and take off from her side of the river. "_We _rule Terabithia!" I shouted as she came swinging into marvelous view.

"And nothing crushes us!" she finished for me as she made a smooth landing.

We were smiling and then we laughed uncontrollably, feeling like we were kids. Of course technically we still _were_, but to a thirteen-year-old, being eleven feels like it was years and years ago. But as we looked out at Terabithia, any feeling of being ridiculous or childish was washed away: this was the place we belonged, and no matter how old we were, it was _our _place.

Once Leslie had told me off for making her worry I'd fallen on the other side, we spent all afternoon (and into early evening) running around our kingdom. Our people had missed us, and the Queen joked about how I had made a new conquest since our departure. As we made to leave Terabithia, Leslie conversationally asked, "I suppose the King plans on taking this new… interest to the Spring Dance tomorrow eve?"

"The Queen supposes correctly," I replied, once we'd both made it safely to the other side (although Leslie didn't miss the chance to josh back at me, pretending as if she almost slipped half-way across). "Emily and I are going together."

"Won't that be jolly fun!" she said. "Hey, are we allowed to speak like the rulers once we've left Terabithia?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Let's not, then," she said. "It makes it more special that way." She glanced at the riverbed over her shoulder. "There's barely enough water in there to even constitute a creek," she remarked. "It probably would have been safer to just walk across."

"_Walk_? To Terabithia?" I balked. "Then it wouldn't be special."

"No, I guess not."

After we said our goodbyes, I walked back into the house, and by into the house I mean _into_ it—Leslie had looked over her shoulder to smile and wave as she ran home, and I was so distracted I walked smack dab into the outer wall. Whoops.

"Nice," said Brenda, opening the door for me. I ignored her and stepped inside, but then she caught me off guard by saying, "Does Emily Wilson know you're two-timing her, Jess?"

"What?!" I sputtered.

"Oh, come on," said Ellie as Brenda sat down next to her. "You're going out with Emily, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"So where did you just go off to with Leslie Burke?" Brenda questioned me. "Maybelle told us you guys hang out sometimes after school—"

"Today was the first time in weeks, and besides we didn't—"

"Ah, so he admits it," Ellie cackled to Brenda. "Poor Emily! Gosh, Jess, at least _she's _normal—"

"Shut up!" I yelled. They both just kept laughing, so I tramped upstairs to my room in a huff. Maybelle wasn't there, otherwise I would have yelled at her, too, ratting out me and Leslie. I flopped down on my bed. Stupid Ellie, stupid Brenda. What did _they_ know, anyway? It's not like I _like_ liked Leslie, we'd been best friends forever. So what, I was just supposed to cut her off when I got a girlfriend? No way! That's stupid, she didn't have a problem with Emily anyway. …at least I didn't think so. She'd have no reason to, it was stupid.

A knock sounded on my door. "Jess, we're sorry," sighed Ellie. "We were just teasing you, we know you have no intention of going out with Leslie."

"Yeah, Maybelle told us you two hadn't been talking for a while," seconded Brenda through the door. "But you can put two and two together, can't you?" When I didn't answer, she sighed in exasperation. "Leslie _likes _you, Jess. That's why she wouldn't talk to you for so long! Geez!"

A car door slam. "Oops—'rents are home; better get started on that homework," I heard Ellie mutter to Brenda. Then in a louder voice, "Just remember what we said, Jess! We know about these things!"

"Just shut up and leave me alone!" I shouted, not really knowing why I was being so loud. Leslie did _not_ like me, that was ridiculous. Brenda and Ellie were just trying to annoy me again. Now that I had a girlfriend, they wanted me to screw things up with her by trying to get Leslie's attention. Puh.

But then I remembered: how Leslie had looked at me during lunch, when she'd touched my arm before going to Terabithia, her smile as she waved goodbye. Then an unbidden image entered my mind: Leslie walking around school arm-in-arm with some guy, some random guy, laughing and smiling and acting like he was the only person in the world. She doted on him, saved a seat for him, ate lunch with him, harbored a secret desire to take hold of him and kiss him. I hated him. I hated that guy! I wanted to punch him, kick him, grab him by the throat and—

Wait a second, that guy doesn't even exist. Oh, crap. What's going on? Finally, it hit me: the effect Leslie's smile had had on me was triple of that brought by Emily's swift kiss on my cheek. Leslie Burke was amazing. Much as Emily was pretty and popular and liked me, I realized that I'd had more fun in Terabithia today than I had anywhere with Emily in the last three weeks. It struck me like lightning just then: I loved Leslie Burke. I loved her. I loved being with her, loved her laugh, loved her sense of humor, loved her imagination, loved her smile her face her hair the way she landed when she got off the rope—I loved her!

I had to hear the way the words sounded out loud. "Leslie," I said in a barely audible whisper. "I… think I love you." I smiled slowly to myself and hugged my pillow. It was much easier to say than "I love you, Emily Wilson." Emily was a nice kid but now it was plainer than day that she was no Leslie Burke.

I guess I must have fallen asleep and stayed that way, because next thing I knew I was being shaken roughly awake very early the next morning.

"Jess, get up, get up!"

It was my mother. Groaning, I slowly propped myself up on my elbows and squinted at her. "What?"

"_Wake _up, Jesse!" she said, shaking me again to get me to open my eyes. Her tone was unusually worried, as if she need more done than the cow getting milked.

"What's—what's wrong, what's going on?" I yawned, sitting up.

"It's Leslie."

My heart skipped a beat just at the sound of her name. "What about her?"

"She's gone missing—her parents called and said she'd disappeared. They've looked everywhere, all around the house and grounds and she's not anywhere—"

This wasn't like Leslie. I jumped out of bed, and having fallen asleep in my T-shirt and jeans needed only to pull on my hoodie before stalking out of my room and asking, "When did they call?"

"Only about five minutes ago—I thought you might know where she is, and we could tell them where to—"

I stepped into my sneakers and was out of the door, closing it with a bang behind me. I was barely aware that I'd cut off my mother, but I didn't really care at the moment. All that mattered was that I find Leslie, and I knew just where to look. But I didn't understand: what had possessed her to just run off without telling her parents? Why didn't she at least tell them she was with me, so they could call my parents and they could confirm it? She'd been so off lately—

At the dirt path in front of Terabithia, I came to an automatic stop. The rope was broken. It was broken. It had been fine yesterday; it had looked a little edgy but it had worked fine—it was _broken?_ Did Leslie…. no. No, it had broken overnight; Leslie was somewhere else, definitely. I was just about to slowly turn back when I heard something that made my heart sink:

"Je-ess?"

My heart was hammering. Her voice sounded like it was across the way, and I felt relieved. She had made it to the other side, and _then_ the rope had broke of its own accord. She spoke again: "Jess, help me… I'm down here."

"Very funny, Leslie," I called out, thinking she was just hiding in the bush where I couldn't see her. "I know you're just getting back at me for that joke I pulled on you yesterday. Guess I'll have to walk across, huh?"

"Please, Jess."

It didn't sound like she was pretending anymore. For a split second longer, I lingered there, then I flew to the edge of the riverbed and I felt my heart stop—actually _stop_—when I saw Leslie lying in the low water, the lower half of the mangled rope still in her hand. I climbed down and splashed my way towards her; to my horror, I could see the color of blood seeping slowly into the water from the back of her head. It rested a large rock.

"The rope is broke," she said in a cracked whisper, lifting her had somewhat to show it to me.

"Leslie," was all I could think to say. I didn't know what to do; I had to help her. Awkwardly, I slid one arm into the water under her back but didn't really know what to do with the other one.

"It's all right, Jess," she said in the same broken whisper, the way you talk when your throat is very dry. "It's all right. I don't really think you _can_ help me—"

"Don't talk that way, Leslie," I said. Her eyes were slowly closing and opening as if she was very drowsy. "Why didn't you get me to come with you, Leslie? Why did you come alone?" Her eyes remained close. "Leslie. Leslie!" Suddenly I knew what to do with my other arm. I put it around her and closed my eyes as well, leaned towards her and gave her a small, gentle kiss on her smooth lips.

She inhaled deeply and her eyes opened when I ended it. I could see she had been crying, but through her tear tracks I saw a weak smile. "Thanks, Jess … I always wanted to be your first kiss."

"That was the first," I said, "But it's not going to be the last." I moved my other arm to the back of her knees and managed to lift her up off the ground. Blood continued to drip from her soggy hair into the river water; I had to act fast. "Just hang onto me, Leslie, hang on."

"Jess, I—"

"I love you, Leslie, I love you and I'm not going to let anything happen to you! I'm not going to leave you here!"

Leslie looked shocked. Then, "Thanks, Jess… thank you." She gripped the hood of my sweater a bit tighter and I found some foot-holes to help me climb back onto the dirt path. Once we were on steady ground again, I lay her down as gently as I could, then pulled the hoodie over my own head and put it gawkily around her own. Then I helped her to climb up on my back, and I ran home like I had never run before—I felt like I could have even outran Jesse Owens at the rate I was going, and he'd never had to run with a girl on his back.

As we got nearer to home, though, I could feel myself getting more and more tired. Leslie was getting heavier; I knew this meant she had lost consciousness and I felt like I was nearly losing it, too—"Hang on, Leslie," I panted. "Hang on, we're almost there—come on, Leslie…" My own eyes were beginning to close; I stumbled but Leslie remained on my back; our houses were coming into view, and then my parents talking to the Burkes …Bill practically jumped their fence when he saw me… I fell to the ground and everything went black…

I woke up in a bed. Had it all been a dream? A horrible dream? Relief washed over me; that must have been it. But then I became more in tune with the awake world and realized that I was not in my bed and I was not in my room. The walls were white, the sheets were white, my family was sitting all around me, silent but looking quietly overjoyed to see me upright.

"Am I in the hospital?" I asked, not really needing an answer.

"Yes," came my dad's gruff reply.

"Where's Leslie?"

They wouldn't look at me; they wouldn't even look at each other. "Where's Leslie?" I repeated, unsuccessful in keeping the panic out of my voice. I knew this could only mean one thing.

She was gone.

There were no needles or tubes in me, no straps or bandages to keep me down. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood; I guess I'd done so too quickly because it felt like the room was swaying back and forth and my head ached. I screwed my eyes shut in pain and heard footsteps across the room. Next thing I knew, my father was holding me in his arms, my head pushed into his chest. Tears were coming out of my eyes, and I initially thought he was just trying to hide them, like he didn't want to have to see me do something so girly as cry.

"I'm so sorry, Jess," he whispered instead. "I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what else I should say."

"She's dead?" I sniffed, tears blurring my vision and my speech. "Dad, Leslie is dead?"

My mother and sisters walked out of the room; I was alone with my father. His hand clutching the back of my head he answered, "She's gone, son. We were so scared, though—you came running to the house with her on her back, and then you just collapsed right there in front of us. Right away your mother ran inside and called for an ambulance. Mr. Burke and I went up to you two, and we saw you'd fainted, but I worried it was much worse because your friend—" He cut himself off there, whether he was collecting his thoughts or trying not to cry himself I wasn't really sure. "Leslie… was… barely alive."

"She was alive," I said in a voice that came out in a squeak, as I was still crying. "She was still alive and I couldn't say goodbye!"

"I don't know if she would've had the strength to hear you," my dad said. "When you fell to the ground, she only said five words."

"What'd she say?" I whispered in a half-sob.

Dad stiffened up, then pulled himself away from me. He was looking me over, evaluating me as if he wondered how I would take this. Sitting down seemed to be indicated, so I automatically sat on the bed and he on the chair next to it. "She had kind of fallen over you, so her head was kind of near yours. Mr. Burke was trying to get up but she said… she said 'I love you, Jess,' into your ear."

Why was I so weak?! If I could have held out only a few moments longer, I could have heard the sentence that might have kept me going. I had missed it. "That was only four words, dad," I informed him. "You said there were five."

My father exhaled loudly and leaned back in his chair. "I noticed Leslie always called her parents by their first names. Mr. Burke was crying like a baby, but he bawled like no man I've ever seen we he took that little girl into his arms, and she put hers around his neck and called him Daddy."

"And then?"

He looked at the ground. "And then that was all." Dad sighed heavily again, then added (as if he figured I had a right to know all these details so soon after the fact), "I knew she was gone, but when the ambulance came, Bill put her in anyway and insisted we take her along. But there was nothing the doctors could do; she's in the next room over. Bill says they're thinking of cremating—"

I stood up and strode angrily over to the door then wrenched it open, once more interrupting one of my parents this way. I didn't know how long it would be until Leslie's body was burned, gone forever, but I couldn't take any chances in not ever seeing it again. In the hallway I saw the rest of my family, all awkward and standing there, shifting around and not knowing what to say or how to look. Then, staring into the glass window in the room next to mine, I saw a familiar figure.

She turned when she saw me looking, and I slowly began to recognize the brunette beauty with soft, brown eyes. "Emily… Emily?" I had forgotten all about her; forgotten she even existed. It took me a minute to even remember her last name, or why she would have come to see me here.

Tears in her eyes, Emily nodded and came over to hug me. "I'm sorry, Jess, I'm so sorry," she cried. I stood there, unmoved. Just the other day I would have reveled in this, but I didn't care anymore. I wanted Leslie to hug me, to need me, to tell me she was sorry about anything, just so she was talking to me. Emily Wilson meant nothing to me. She slowly got this, and released me. I turned away from her and went through the door of Leslie's room.

Leslie, my best friend in the world, lay there in the white sheets, looking peaceful at last. Her eyes were shut, but her mouth—maybe it was just a trick of the light, or me wishing I was seeing something I didn't—looked like it was curved up into that playful smirk she always had. There were two empty chairs on either side of the bed, and I assumed they had been occupied by her parents at one point; they were probably off talking to some doctor about cremation now.

Queen of Terabithia. "Leslie." I wanted her eyes to snap open, for her to try not to laugh, like she was seeing how long she could play dead for me. But she remained completely immobile. After a few moments' hesitation, I clambered up onto the bed next to her, lay on my side with my head in the pillow, just looking.

Her dirty blonde hair which had always been flying about her face, anything but still, was now probably neater than it had ever been… and not moving. I put my arm over her stomach, half-waiting to feel her body move with her breathing. But I knew it was in vain; I felt nothing. Sliding my hand under the sheet, I felt around for hers and when I found it, gave it a small squeeze. Every fiber of my being prayed for a miracle, that after a few seconds I might feel her squeeze it back. Nothing. "You really are dead," I said to her small ear. "I made you a promise, though, Leslie. I said that kiss wouldn't be the last."

Glad I was alone, I inched closer and kissed her cheek. Maybe it was just that trick of the light again, but as I closed my exhausted eyes, I could almost swear I saw a smile.

There was a dream.

_"Come on, Jess! Hurry!"_

_Leslie was taking me deeper and deeper into Terabithia, and I knew we were going to the Sacred Forest, to talk to the gods. She came to an abrupt stop, and thrust her arms into the air. "Gods of Terabithia!" she shouted. "Hear me!" _

_Some branches fell down at us as several birds took off at once to fly away from her booming voice. She grinned at me. "This is why I wanted to come alone," she said_.

_I understood she meant yesterday, when I had found her. "But…why?"_

_"I came to pray to the Terabithia gods!" she answered, once more addressing the sky. Then, a little sheepishly, she went on, "I hoped maybe they could help me. I mean, help me about you."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Well clearly, I wasn't going about the right way of getting you to know," she laughed. "I wanted to know that I care about you, Jess." Then she giggled and, taking my face in her hands, closed my questioning mouth with a kiss. "Mmm…" She broke it off._

_"But—Leslie," I said. "You've…"_

_"Yes, this is a dream," she said lightly. "Right?" She jumped up onto the branch of a nearby tree. Even in my Terabithia-imagination I don't think I could have jumped so high. "I'm dead, you can say it."_

_"I'll never see you again!" I shouted to her._

_"Oh, don't be so dramatic!" she laughed, jumping to another branch. "Or are you worried about __your__ God sending me to hell?"_

_"He wouldn't," I replied, still loud. "Because God only takes the best." _

_Even from all the way down where I was, I could still see her smile grow. "That's right, Jess Aarons. Thank you! And don't worry, I'll always be watching out for you, I...I love you."_

_"Leslie," I said, and I realized my voice was choked with tears again. "Leslie, I love you, too. I don't want to lose you."_

_"You haven't lost me!" she called out, jumping still higher; "I'm all around here!" She indicated the entire forest. "If you ever need me, you'll know just where to find me!" Suddenly I saw our tree house (built a lot higher than it really was), and she landed on its roof. "Remember!" she announced, thrusting her fist into the air. "We rule Terabithia!"_

_I smiled through my drying tears, punching the air back at her and my voice was louder and more sturdy than ever as I answered, "Nothing crushes us!" _

**The End.**

**A/N: **Okay obviously I had the movie in mind when I wrote this, but you should know that I read the book way before the movie was even in production. As in, years ago. I guess I still wanted Leslie to die, but on my own terms… thanks for reading.


	2. But Leslie, what if you die?

This is another one-shot, from** Leslie's** point of view.

**&-**

So I was walking down the path to Terabithia—well, running, actually (of course) against Jess. He was laughing but losing dreadfully; I was going like the Road runner in those old cartoons. The rain was coming down in bullets, but I thought it was marvelous. When I got to the tree, the rope looked a little odd. Like there was something wrong with it. I ignored it, though—a little weathering weather wasn't going to keep me away from Terabithia today.

I grabbed hold of the rope, but all of a sudden—just as I was almost across—I heard a cracking noise over the rain, one that did not quite sound like lightning. Then I was falling; plummeting towards the river water and I realized that the branch supporting the rope had broken. The cold water lapped me up, and I tried in vain to seize something to hold on to, something to keep me from flowing upstream.

But before I knew it, none other than Jess Aarons had jumped in after me and grabbed me around the middle. At first it kind of hurt, but as Jess (who was somehow managing to climb his way back up the ravine) continued his hold on me, I felt inexplicably safe—in spite of the thrashing waves and pelting raindrops.

"Leslie, are you all right?" he near-shouted over the rain once we'd reached solid land. I had collapsed on my back, and he was kneeling right next to me.

Still a little breathless from the frightening ordeal I replied, "Yes, I guess I am." He smiled, and I returned it. "Jess—oh my gosh. If it wasn't for you just then, I might have …I would have…"

"Hey, not while I'm around," he said. He had me speechless there. Jess stood, then extended his hand to me. Slowly I took it, and got up. We just stood there for a while, observing …I hadn't been this close to Jess before. At least, I hadn't and felt the way I did all of a sudden.

He'd finally gotten a bit taller than me (we'd always been around equal height, although honestly I always thought I had at least an inch on him). Was that a good kissing height? Like in the movies, doesn't the girl always lean up to kiss the guy? Wait… why was I thinking about kissing all of a sudden? Did I want to _kiss _Jess? Oh, gross…!

Right?

Now I was confused. I was so busy mulling over this issue that I barely noticed that Jess was walking me home, his hand clasped around mine. We walked into my kitchen and saw Judy preparing some eggs.

"Oh, hi!" she greeted us, her voice taking second stage to the ones arguing in my head. "I'm making some scrambled eggs, would you guys like some?"

Jess made some sound of assent; I watched the way his lips moved. Did I really want to touch those with my mouth? Kind of….oh, geez!

"Leslie, would you like yours wet or dry?" Judy asked.

"EXCUSE ME?!" I gasped loudly, my mind still on a different track from eggs.

Jess and Judy stared at me. Then Bill came down the stairs to stare as well, wondering what had happened to cause me to shout out like that. Clearing my throat and trying not to look at Jess I said, "William, Judith. I mean, 'excuse me,' but how can we be discussing such … trivial things as eggs when what you should _really _know is that today, just now, Jess Aarons saved my life!"

My parents raised their eyebrows at us, as if they weren't really sure how melodramatic I was being. Jess averted his eyes but I went on (in a more serious tone), "No, it's true! I was swinging across a rope to get to Tera—" Jess looked up quickly and I caught myself just in time. "Tera… you know, terra, more land—but the branch that supports the rope broke and then I fell in the water, and who _knows _what would have happened if Jess hadn't jumped in and pulled me out!"

With a gasp, Judy dropped her spatula and walked around the counter so she was on the same side as us. "Jess, is that true?!"

"Oh—well—yes, ma'am, I suppose it is," he said bashfully. Could I really be this mushy, or did my heart feel like it was melting? He was so modest!

Bill and Judy walked over to him and both started hugging him. Judy looked about ready to cry (so did Jess, because they were holding him so tightly it must have hurt). "Guys, guys," I said, trying to squeeze myself in there. "Go easy on him!"

"I'm sorry, honey but that's just so…" Judy gave a dry sob. "You could have d-died, and if it wasn't for Jess, …"

"I think we're embarrassing her," Bill said with a weak grin at me.

Yeah, or Jess! Sheesh, parents.

"Thanks for the eggs, Judy," said Jess after he'd had a few. "But I'd better be getting home, those chores won't do themselves!"

"I walk back with you," I volunteered, flapping my raincoat hood back over my head. "C'mon, let's go."

Pretty sure I heard Judy go "so responsible," after his retreating figure, I rolled my eyes and went after him. "So, we're going back tomorrow, right?" I asked as we neared his home.

"Er… yeah, sure," he said, though obviously hesitant. "The rain will have let up by then, right?"

"Yeah, definitely," I said in a convincing voice, as if the weather had better do as I say. We were on his front porch. "Listen, Jess…"

"Yeah?" He looked at me, his big brown eyes looking innocently into mine, so unaware of what I wanted to do just then. "Leslie, are you okay…?" He jokingly shook my arm, and my heart jumped into my throat—which, if you ask me, would justify the stuttering of my next sentence.

"I—I just, I… um…" Oh, so I was nervous, that was all. I mean, it _had_ been a bit of a scare, today. "Jess… thanks. Thanks for everything." I didn't mean just for saving my life, but for being such a good friend, being my _best _friend when other people didn't want anything to do with me, but I didn't know how to say it right. "Jess."

He was amused now, I could tell. "Yes, Leslie?"

"Oh, what the heck." I bridged the gap between us by taking his face in my hands and I kissed him as well as I could. No big deal, I told myself, but as I realized that this was the commencement of so many other dreams I had been subconsciously having, I could not help but revel in it. After a few moments, Jess put his arms around me and pulled me closer.

Then with a bang, his front door opened. His two older sisters stood there and watched us jump guiltily apart. But instead of laughing, like I would have expected them to, one of them started to bark, like P.T.

How strange.

I awoke with a start to see Prince Terrian jumping around on my bed, apparently terrified. Lightning crashed outside my window, and he gave another frightened bark and pranced into my arms. As I tried to calm him down, I also had to try and calm myself. So it had all been a dream. Jess hadn't saved me from the jaws of death, nor had he kissed me. I ran my fingers across my lips, trying to feel the remnants of the dream there.

"Sh, P.T., SH!" I shushed him, petting him roughly to try and get him to shut up. He whimpered silently in my lap. I closed my eyes, but kept my mind wide open to the fantasy that it was a shivering Jess I held in my arms, comforting. That he needed me. I had certainly come to the conclusion that_ I _needed _him_. While the rescue and the kiss may have been completely made up in my mind (a darn shame, really), I had to acknowledge the fact that my feelings had not.

At the same time, I couldn't help feeling a little disgusted with myself. I felt like I was as bad as Jess's slobbery older sisters. Yuck.

"Leslie?" It was Judy. She walked slowly into my dark room. "Is everything all right? I heard P.T. barking like crazy!"

"Everything's fine," I said, _if you don't count that dream_. "I think he just got a little scared by the storm, is all."

"It _is _some storm, isn't it?" Judy murmured, sitting down on the bed next to me. "Just goes to show you how powerful nature can really be when it wants to, huh?"

"Yeah," I whispered, stroking P.T's fur (_not _Jess's hair). "Mom—Judy…" She turned to look at me in surprise, and I reached over the dog to hug her. "I love you."

"Well I love you too, Leslie," she said, patting my back. When I leaned on my pillow once more, she asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, yeah, I just had a pretty weird dream is all," I yawned.

"Oh, yeah? Well maybe you can tell me more about it in the morning," she said, getting up. "We should both get to sleep now. Good night."

"Night."

In the morning, the rain was still coming down in Biblical proportions (if I'm not exactly religious, am I still allowed to say that? I only know Jess was telling me that story about Noah and his ark a couple weeks ago, and how all that rain came down and made a flood. That's where I got the phrase from. Sure was an neat story, but I feel bad for all the unicorns and dragons that didn't believe and then drowned in the flood).

P.T. was no more than a snoozing little heap on the end of my bed; I carefully climbed out, trying not to disturb him. Maybe when we went to Terabithia today, Jess and I could pretend like it was Noah's flood out there, and we had to save all of our people. Jess could be Noah and I could be… as I pulled on my clothes, I tried to remember the names of the women in the story. None came to mind, so I decided I could be Esther, that woman in the Bible Jess had told me stood up to the King to save all the Jewish people. I'm not sure if Esther ever met Noah, but that didn't _really _matter in make-believe. Before rushing out of the bathroom, I paused to evaluate myself in the mirror.

My hair could use a trim, should probably cut my nails at some point, and… what else? If I was old enough to start thinking about Jess in the way I was thinking, was I old enough to wear makeup? Judy didn't wear much but she kept some around. I strained my ears for any sound of her (or Bill) coming down the hall, but I heard nothing. Carefully I removed the lid from what I thought was that blush stuff, picked up the little poofy thing inside and dabbed it on my cheeks. Did it really make that much of a difference? It was hard to tell…

I rattled through some more of the drawers and found an old lip gloss dispenser that Maybelle had once given me in exchange for the Barbies (I believe its previous owner was Brenda or Ellie). I had never wanted to use it before, but I carefully applied some today and smacked my lips the way I'd seen my mother do. Hm. Not too bad.

Glancing at a hallway clock, I saw that it was only 9:00 in the morning. As it was a Saturday, Bill and Judy wouldn't be up yet, but I knew Jess would. Walking down the wooden stairs quietly proved very difficult, because they creaked horribly every time you took a step—but I decided it wouldn't make that much noise in comparison to the raging storm going on outside. I took note of the fact that most people would just want to stay inside on days like this, but not me. Running around in the elements makes me feel so alive, and I'm glad that Jess appears to feel the same way.

Nevertheless, I pulled on my boots and too-big-for-me raincoat and started outdoors. As I headed for Jess's, I wondered if I should tell him about my dream. What if it freaked him out? What if he said he only wanted to be friends? What if he didn't even want to be _that _anymore when I told him how I felt? What if I was doing all this what if-ing for nothing? Maybe Jess felt the same way… at any rate, I was filled with a private, bubbling joy as I arrived at his porch—even if I didn't say anything today, it would still be just as good just to see him.

I tentatively knocked on the door, wondering if anyone would be able to hear me over the rain. When no one answered I knocked a little louder, but it was still in vain. I had just decided I'd walk around to the barn to see if he was in there milking Bessie, when the wire door opened. Maybelle stood there in her measly little pajamas, looking tired and very much awake at the same time.

"Hi there, Maybelle," I greeted her, not stepping inside because I was dripping like nobody's business.

"Hi, Leslie!"

"Is Jess here?"

"No."

"Oh, so he's out working in this weather?" I laughed, jabbing my thumb behind me to indicate the barn and the storm.

"No—no, he's not," Maybelle said after I'd already turned around. Naturally I turned once more so I was facing her again.

"He's… he's not? Where is he?" This was weird.

"Miss Edmunds came here a little while ago," Maybelle answered. "Jess said something about going to a museum in the city with her."

"Oh, he… he did?"

"Yes."

Even in the cold rain, I suddenly felt hot. I didn't know what to say. Trying to sound casual I said, "Ah. So, uh… how—how long ago did they leave?"

"I dunno," Maybelle answered with a shrug. "Not _very _long ago."

My heart was sinking. "Oh… okay." Maybelle was still standing there, waiting for me to say something else. "All right, Maybelle. When Jess gets back, tell him I came by and tell him I'm at… tell him I went to the place. Don't worry, he'll understand."

"Okay," Maybelle said slowly, looking curiously at me.

"Well, bye." I turned and walked down the front steps, and heard Maybelle shut the door behind me.

So, Miss Edmunds. _Miss _Edmunds… I never liked that woman. She's very shady. Driving into D.C. in this kind of weather?! Surely that couldn't be safe! How reckless of a teacher to come and invite a student on a little foray into town on a rainy day like this. They'd probably get in an accident; Miss Edmunds doesn't seem like the kind of person who'd be a safe driver. And then Jess would die, and I wouldn't _ever _get to tell him about my dream (because even if I didn't today, I would have _some_day)! Oh, dear.

And why didn't he invite me?! That was the worst part of it. Just because he's the artist doesn't mean I wouldn't have enjoyed going to a museum! I would have gone to a monster truck rally if it meant being with Jess. He wanted to be _alone_ with her, he didn't want me intruding on his time alone with his precious Miss Edmunds. Stupid boy!

I didn't realize it, but all this time, my feet had been taking me to the creek in front of Terabithia. Staring down at it, I acknowledged that it was not so much a creek as it was a swift river, like Noah's flood. No; not Noah's flood, not quite… maybe more like the river the Queen of Egypt found what's-his-name in, floating in a basket. Yeah, that was it. I'd told Maybelle I'd be in Terabithia, but would it really be the same without Jess there? Maybe he wouldn't like it if I went alone…

Well, too bad for him. He wanted to go to the museum with Miss Edmunds alone. Gosh, just thinking about her made a sharp feeling of rage spasm through my chest. I couldn't tell if it was just rain or if there were teardrops on my face, slightly blinding my vision. Either way it was difficult to get an exact look of things as I reached for the rope, grabbed it, and swung.

For a few seconds, everything was fine and normal. Then I suddenly became aware that I was free-falling. I tore my eyes away from Terabithia and looked up: the branch was fine but the rope had split… below me, the crashing water could not quite hide a tremendous rock from view—I knew what was going to happen the second before it did and in that one second, all I could think was

_Jess—_


	3. Alive in You

**A/N**: Okay, so… yeah. This is a **thirty-three year old Jess** staying with the **twenty-something** year old **Maybelle**, **who is living in their parents' old house**.

**:::&:::**

"Mother. Mother. MOM!"

"Good gracious, Jack, what is it?"

"Uncle Jess is here!!"

Maybelle looked up from the kitchen sink and indeed saw her big brother Jess outside the window, unloading his truck. The dish she was cleaning dropped with a clang as she ran to the door to meet him. "Jess!" He looked up at the sound of his name and smiled; Maybelle laughed and hurried outside.

"Hiya, scrawny!" he said by way of greeting, hugging her so hard he lifted her off the ground. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Tell me about it!" Maybelle chuckled once he'd set her down. "Wow, Jess. You look good, it _has _been too long!"

"Does that mean I looked bad the last time you saw me?" Jess joked, following her into the house. "Hence your surprise at seeing me look good now?"

"You know what I meant."

"Uncle Jess, Uncle Jess!"

"Hey, kiddo," Jess laughed, bending down and picking up his nephew. "Look at you, you've gotten to be so big! What grade are you in this year?"

"Third," Jack promptly replied. "I started today."

"Yeah? Learn anything interesting?"

Jack shrugged. "Eh. Not really."

"Okay, champ." Jess patted the kid's head and went over to help Maybelle with the dishes. "Hey sis, remember when Brenda used to sneak up behind me at breakfast and then force me under the sink?"

"Because you smelled _so bad _from all of your running!" Maybelle laughed. "I'd forgotten! …and Ellie would hold you down while Brenda was the one running soap through your hair!" She tapped the faucet fondly, saying, "So many memories in this old house, huh?" Stacking up the clean dishes, she nodded at the spot over one of the cupboards. "See what I found the other day?"

Jess followed her gaze and saw, framed, a picture he had drawn sometime as far back as fourth grade. "Whaddya know," he said, walking over for a better look. The drawing was of a hippo falling over a cliff, with a speech bubble saying, "Oh! I seem to have forgotten my glasses!" coming out of the top of his head. "I thought I'd lost it…"

"Well, I was trying to tidy up your old room for you and Leslie," Maybelle said, now setting the clean plates around the table. "You know it hasn't been used in years. Anyway, I found it stuffed under the mattress and I thought it was so cute. Why did you have it hidden?"

"I didn't want dad to find it, of course," Jess muttered, tearing his eyes away.

"But then I guess that means you didn't want Miss Edmunds to either!" his sister teased him.

"Wait, Uncle Jess, Leslie is coming, then?" Jack asked excitedly, as this news was new to him.

"Oh, yeah," Jess said, sitting down at the table. "I didn't think I could get Emily to relinquish her this weekend—I mean, it _is_ Emily's sister's birthday—but Leslie really wanted to come see you guys, so …I pulled it off."

"I still don't think it's fair," Jack pouted, assisting Maybelle in setting the table. "How come Leslie only gets to spend two weekends a month with you, and she gets to spend all the rest of her time with Aunt Emily?! I mean, you're her _dad_, she should get to be with you more often."

"Yes, I thought so," Jess sighed. "But, the judge handling our divorce didn't quite see things the same way."

"Well, at least mom and dad kind of moved near Emily, right?" Maybelle said. "So Leslie gets to see them now and then."

"Speaking of estranged spouses," Jess said. "Where's David?"

"First of all, we're not even close to being estranged, so that segue-way didn't really work," Maybelle chuckled. "Second of all, he's out visiting _his_ parents. Too bad about them, really, they need a nursing home." She glanced out at their old farm. "Dad didn't take his inability to manage a farm very well, though, but at least they only had to move to a smaller home."

Outside, a car door banged shut. They heard someone say "bye, mom" and then heard running footsteps. Maybelle once more looked out the window and saw Leslie Aarons flying towards the house. "I swear," she muttered. "That girl runs like the wind, Jess. It's almost like—like having her back."

A smile briefly flickered on Jess's face, then he stood up as Leslie came crashing through the front door. She ran straight into her father's arms, laughing. "Hi, dad!"

"Hey, old girl!" he chuckled, swinging her around a bit before setting her down. "That was some runnin' you did just now, Les. Fastest kid in the fifth grade?"

"Dad!" she laughed. When Jess looked at her expectantly, she blushed and said, "Well, yes! You should have seen the boys' faces, they were all so mad! They all just said that they'd gotten out of practice, and it was only the first day. So they think they'll get back at me tomorrow." She rolled her eyes and sat down on the chair next to Jess. "I'll show them."

"That's my girl."

"So you still go by just Les, then, huh?" Maybelle asked.

"Yeah," answered Les. She shrugged. "I dunno… I just think Leslie kind of sounds weird.

Maybelle tried to catch Jess's eye at this, but he artfully avoided it.

Leslie Aarons had once been extremely blonde (like Ellie), but around the age of eight her hair had started to brown and now bore a stronger resemblance to her mother's. Leslie usually did her hair the same way as Emily did—in a long ponytail draping over her shoulder—as well, so that many times she looked like a smaller version of her mom. She also had her mother's laugh, dimples and hands, but had her father's sharp wit, drawing and running skills. Her eyes were a shaded green color, very unlike anyone else's in either Jess's or Emily's family.

"So apparently, Jack did not learn anything of interest today at school," Maybelle informed Les, a bit of the way through dinner. "What about you?"

"Oh, I dunno," Les said. "But gosh, fifth grade is hard! It was only the first day of school, and Ms. Ragno _already _gave us homework."

"Yes, school has a way of getting tougher each year you go on," Jess said, not having the heart to elaborate that some day it was going to get much tougher than the girl could imagine. "What's the assignment?"

"I guess it could be worse," Les said, calmly catching a bowl of mashed potatoes her cousin had nearly sent to the floor. "We're just supposed to share the history of our name, so we all have a better idea of who everyone is. But like we _need_ that—I've known these people since I was like, six."

Maybelle caught Jess's eye, and he looked away, allowing Les to continue.

"But mine is kind of tough. Most of my friends already knew what they were going to write on the way home. I mean, Naomi is Jewish so her name came from the Bible, and Amanda was named after her grandmother, and Chelsea's parents really liked some song by Joni Mitchell so they named _her _after _that_, and—"

"Les, did you tell your mother about this assignment?" Jess asked.

"Yeah, on the way over," Les answered. "She didn't answer for a while, so I was like, thanks a lot, I guess you forgot. But then she said she named me after some guy, some actor? Leslie someone, he was in _Gone with the Wind_." She frowned. "Daddy, is that true? You named me after a man?"

Jess burst out laughing, but Maybelle slapped him on the shoulder. "Jess!" She was not joking about when she said, "You never told her about her namesake?!"

Leslie's eyes narrowed, and she looked from her aunt to her father. Jess now stared down at his empty plate, the etch of his laugh still on his face but looking solemn at the same time. "I… I thought I had, but I guess it's been so long you don't remember."

"It wasn't a guy, was it?" Les moaned.

"No, no, Leslie was a girl," Jess said. Then he laughed again. "And she certainly wasn't in _Gone with the Wind_." He got to his feet and, addressing his little sister asked, "Maybelle, would it be all right if you excused me and Les? I'd like to take her somewhere just down the road from here."

Maybelle recognized the glint in his eye and said, "Yes, of course."

"I wanna come, too!" Jack yelped, leaping from his seat.

"No!" Maybelle said, pushing him back down his chair. "Besides, you haven't finished eating your vegetables!"

"_Darn_ those vegetables!" Jack moaned as Jess and Leslie went out the back door.

Les barely kept in her dad's wake, wondering where they could be going when it was so dark out. His silence and reverent expression made her think maybe it was some kind of holy place; maybe her namesake was some Saint that others had forgotten. She nearly bumped into her dad when he came to a stop in front of a long, dusty road. Les squinted and peered down it, intrigued by the fact that she couldn't see where it ended. An inexplicable feeling of excitement surged through her.

Jess had just opened his mouth to say something when Les said, "Race you to the end of the road!" and pelted down the path. He stood there in shock, wondering if she had just said what she thought, then tore after her.

"Geez, kid, you really _are_ fast!" he panted once he'd caught up to her.

"Fastest in the fifth grade!" she repeated, pushing herself onwards.

"You're just like her!" Jess snorted as Les began to pass him again.

"Like who?"

"Like Leslie!"

She slowed up at hearing this, and waited for him to catch up once more. "What do you mean?"

They were walking now, and Jess had his arm around her. "My first day of fifth grade, I was determined to be the fastest in the race. And I was, too, for the first bit of it. And then, all of a sudden, I saw someone pulling ahead of me—I couldn't believe it! It was a girl!"

"Leslie?"

"Leslie Burke. She outran all of us, and I'll admit I was pretty annoyed with her." He felt the corners of his mouth twitch up into an involuntary smile. "But at the same time, I couldn't help noticing…"

"Noticing what, dad?"

"She was the most beautiful runner I'd ever seen," he replied. "And what I mean by that is, I had never before seen somebody look so natural while they ran. It's like she was born to do it, like it was the first thing she had ever learned to do."

They had come to a stop in front of a gently-running creek which had a makeshift bridge going across. Not really sure why, Les was impressed and awed at the sight of it. She made to start going across when her dad put a hand on her shoulder and said, "I think I'd better go across first, Les, make sure it's safe."

He slowly walked across it, and was amazed at how well it had held after all these years. Once he'd gotten to the other side, he motioned for his daughter to follow. After she had, she whispered, "How long has that bridge been there?!"

"I suppose it'd be about twenty-two years now," he said in a hushed voice. "I built it myself."

She turned to look at it over her shoulder as they walked onwards. "_You _built that, dad? _You _built it?!"

"Yup. But that's nothing, just wait a few more seconds." Several moments later, they had made it to the part of Terabithia where the old tree fort lied. The passage of time had taken its toll more on the house than it had on the bridge; several wood planks seemed to have broken off and even from the ground, Jess could see how messy it was inside of it. Pine needles and pine cones littered the floor, he saw, as he climbed up into the fort with his daughter right on his heels.

"You… you built this?" she asked, looking around at the place.

"I know it doesn't look like much now," he acknowledged. "But it didn't look too shabby back in its day, if I may say so myself."

"So then… did the first Leslie help you make it?"

A reminiscent smile found its way onto Jess's face. "Leslie Burke did much more than help me build a tree house, which is why I named you after her." He set himself down on the edge of the fort, with his legs dangling over the edge, and patted the spot next to him to indicate his daughter so sit down beside him. "Leslie was the best friend I ever had. I didn't have such a great time growing up; you've got way more friends than I ever did! Anyway, this new kid moved into our school and at first I thought she was weird, like everyone else did, but I was so wrong.

"Leslie was an outcast, a misfit like me. But she wasn't going to take it lying down, like _I _did. She encouraged me to fight back, to live my life like I wanted. And that's when we started coming here." He gestured to the woods.

"What is this place called?" the girl asked quietly.

"Terabithia." He hadn't said it in such a long time, and it felt wonderful to hear the word on his tongue once again. "Terabithia. We ran around here for hours at a time, blowing off all the anger and sadness we'd felt at school that day. Without Terabithia, I don't know how either of us ever would have gotten along." A lump had formed in his throat, and he paused, waiting for the urge to cry to pass. Once it had, he went on, "She was a very special girl, Leslie Burke. The greatest I ever knew."

"Greater than mom?" his daughter asked. When Jess didn't answer, she persisted, "Because if you ask me, it sounds like you loved Leslie Burke."

Jess chuckled and slowly lay himself down on the tree house's floor. "I wonder if maybe I did."

Leslie Aarons looked out at Terabithia a few moments longer, then rested herself down next to her father. "Crickets are a bit loud," she commented.

"Not crickets," Jess murmured, his eyes closed. "Terabithian warriors!"

"Warriors?"

"Yes… they're protecting us. Leslie used to tell me if you listened just right, you could hear them talking to you…"

The father and daughter lay there in silence, listening. After about ten minutes, both had fallen into a light sleep. But almost as soon as Jess had dozed off, he heard a noise—it was not the buzzing of a Terabithian warrior, nor was it the wind. It sounded like someone else was climbing up into the tree house. For a moment Jess sat there paralyzed, wondering if some random attacker had found them—but then he figured it was probably just Maybelle, wondering what was keeping them.

"You shouldn't scare me like that," he said.

"Oh Jess, you were always such a chicken."

His jaw dropped in shock—it wasn't Maybelle, it wasn't even Jack. It was Leslie Burke, clambering into the tree house just as natural as could be. She nonchalantly made her way over to him and plopped herself down next to him. Jess was unashamedly staring at her, and also wondering why all the noise they were making hadn't woken up his still-asleep daughter.

"Don't worry about her, Jess," Leslie said, waving a hand in the kid's direction. "Besides, this is just a dream."

"I guess it would be…" He got to his feet and was even more surprised to see that he and Leslie were the same height. Thinking it was odd as he was so much older, he looked down at his hands and realized that he must have been twelve years old again. When he recognized this and looked up, Leslie—his Leslie, blonde and Burke-ish—she was wearing that all-too-familiar impish grin.

"Come on, let's go," she whispered. She led him to the outside part of the tree house and nimbly climbed down the steps. Jess was about to follow, but tripped on his way down and fell at least twelve feet to the forest floor.

"Gosh, Jess!" she cried, helping him to stand up. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, sure I am," Jess grunted, wiping dirt and pine needles off his shirt. "That was a bit of a fall, though." He looked back up at the tree house, then saw Leslie's slightly melancholy face. His expression softened. "I think I must know how it felt now, I mean… when you… when you fell into the river. For a few seconds there, it felt like my heart had leapt up my throat and I couldn't breathe. Like the world had gone and toppled underneath me."

"Yes, that _is _kind of how it felt," Leslie sighed, walking deep into the forest. "Scary, isn't it?"

"Really scary," said Jess, not able to take his eyes off her. "But you know, I've felt it one time before, just once."

"What? When?" she asked, her eyes bright in spite of the darkness.

Instead of answering right away he asked, "Do you have any regrets, Leslie?"

"Well sure, doesn't everyone?" They had come upon a large rock which jutted out over a lower piece of land. Both of them sat down on it, letting their legs hang off the edge. "Why, have you?"

"Yes… I regret that before you died, I never told you how beautiful I thought you were." She had turned to look at him now, but he didn't dare look back: he kept staring on ahead. "The first time I saw you, when you walked into our room, I had that feeling I just got now—you captivated me; I couldn't breathe, my heart seemed to be bouncing all over the place, anywhere but where it should have been."

"Jess Aarons," she whispered. Leslie finally looked down at the ground, away from him. "I don't really know what to say…" But then she caught her second wind. "That is, except to say that you could have _said _that to me! I was the new kid, the weirdo, anything would have helped!"

"Oh come on, Leslie!" Jess laughed. "It was fifth grade! Guys didn't go around telling girls they thought they were beautiful, it just wasn't done. Besides, I was still pretty miffed at you for winning that race at lunch, no matter how you looked."

Leslie only shook her head and laughed as well.

Jess finally looked at her, and he was filled with that same feeling of appreciation and love that he had not felt for a very long while. But at the same time he felt an indescribable sorrow, knowing that when he woke up, he would not see Leslie so alive again. Angst pierced his twelve-year-old heart as he watched her rock gently with laughter, smiling from ear to ear with the deepest dimples he had ever seen. Her eyes were that strange, shaded green color he knew his daughter had.

"You're twelve, then, right?" Leslie asked. Jess looked confused. "I mean, right now. In your dream."

"I guess so."

"I was _almost_ twelve," she sighed. "I almost made it! I think my birthday was only two weeks away when I… yeah."

She trailed off awkwardly, cuing Jess to take up the conversation. "What is it you regret, then, Leslie?"

Leslie blushed and shook her head. "There's no point now, Jess!"

"Come on! I told you mine!"

"True…" She bit her lip and looked back at Jess. "All right, fine. You know what I wish I'd done before I died?" Without giving him time to answer, she put a hand on his cheek and kissed him. Jess sat there stock-still in shock, not knowing exactly how to respond. The matter was taken out of his hands when Leslie moved her arms around him and drew him closer to her. Finally Jess started to respond, kissing her back with equal ardor, but Leslie quickly pulled away.

"Sorry, that must have been weird for you," she said. "I mean, I'm still twelve. And you're …not."

"I feel twelve again," Jess said simply. "Heck, look at me! I _am_ twelve!"

Only shaking her head slightly, Leslie looked out into the night again. "So, how did they tell you?"

"Tell me…?"

"About me. How did you find out?"

A little taken aback by this seemingly morbid question, Jess was startled into a reply. "Well… I got back home, and… and there they all were." He had tried not to think about this day for so long, he hadn't even ever talked about it. "Sitting there thinking I was dead, too, because they assumed I'd been with you. Like I should have been."

Ignoring that last bit, Leslie asked, "Who actually said it?"

"My father," Jess sighed. "They didn't really know how to go about telling me, though. I could see they hadn't really decided how they were going to if it turned out I was alive; they probably thought that I would know… he just looked at me and told me, 'your friend Leslie's dead.'" He gulped. "Then I got that feeling again. Like I couldn't breathe, like my heart had sank into my stomach or just stopped beating altogether."

Leslie nodded, feeling oddly numb to the whole thing. Then she quietly asked, "Where were you, anyway, Jess?"

"What do you mean?" he queried, thought pretty sure he knew what she meant.

"I mean… on the day that I died, I went and asked Maybelle where you were. She didn't know for sure, she just said that you were out." She gazed back at Jess again, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Where were you?"

Jess's heart sank like a stone. He didn't want to answer, and a small part of him was annoyed with Leslie for kissing him and then immediately making him feel guilty about what had happened all those years ago. But eventually, he forced himself to tell her the truth of what he'd done.

"I was with Miss Edmunds."

"Miss Edmunds?" Her eyebrows were knit in deeper confusion. "But wasn't it a Saturday?"

"Yes…" Jess heaved a great sigh. "She called me up and asked if I wanted to go to a museum in the city with her. And I said yes."

"Ah. Well, that makes sense," Leslie said lightly. Jess perked up at this, but then she went on, "I mean, you wouldn't have wanted me there, tagging along. Would've ruined the atmosphere, I get it."

"Oh, geez, Leslie—"

"No, no, you don't have to explain," Leslie interrupted him, now being serious. "I can understand what it meant to you, Jess. Really, I can. Don't blame yourself for what happened to… for what happened. I didn't _have_ to go to Terabithia, and if I had half a brain I wouldn't have with the rain coming down as it did!"

"I could've been there to stop you," Jess insisted. "It's my fault, because I wasn't there, I should've been able to keep you home." Leslie did not argue with that, she only bent her head and looked down at the ground. Acting on impulse, Jess took hold of her hand and said, "Leslie, I…."

She looked at where his hand touched hers, then glanced up and smiled wistfully at him. "What is it, Jess?"

"I don't think I'll ever see you again," he said clumsily, knowing what he was saying must sound stupid. "I mean—even in a dream. But I remember _every_thing about every time I ever _did _see you, and there was nothing else in my life to compare any of it to." He started to choke up. "I've thought of you always and all the time."

Unless he was very much mistaken, Jess thought he could see unshed tears glistening in Leslie's green eyes. "Wow, Jess," she whispered. "I wish I could speak as good as you, I don't really know how to put what I feel into words…" Instead of talking, she drew him into a hug, resting her chin on his shaking shoulder.

"It's hopeless," he whispered into her ear.

"I know," she murmured back.

What exactly it was that was hopeless neither of them really knew. It was hard to say, but as they walked back to the fort with his arm over her shoulder and hers around his waist, the world had never seemed so at peace. Before climbing back up, Jess bit his lip and then said, "Leslie, would it be all right if I kissed you?"

"You're asking me?" she laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I wasn't really, er, …ready, last time."

Shaking her head and giggling, she said, "You know you don't have to ask."

Jess carefully took her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, savoring every moment. He felt her arms close around him, gripping him as if to permanently attach the memory of her kiss to him. His heart was flying again, and he wished against wish that he could just stay here in his dream forever. But he acknowledged that forever was too good to be true, and eventually let go of her.

Leslie had a sad smile on her face as she nodded up at the fort, saying, "What's her name, Jess?"

He grinned bashfully. "Leslie Emily Aarons."

"You mean you…" She looked moved to tears again. "You named her after me?"

"Who else?" Jess asked. "Even if she was a boy I probably would have named him Leslie, because I always knew that if I ever had a kid, I had to name them after you."

"Thanks, Jess," she said, embracing him once more. "Now I feel as if a part of me is still here, still living."

"You have no idea how much I wish I could bring you back with me," Jess said, patting her on the back and then pulling away so he could look her in the face. "I wish so much that this was real, not just technically all in my head."

Looking surprised, Leslie gave his arm a brief squeeze. "Just because it's all in your head," she whispered. "What makes you think it isn't real?"

**A Few Minutes Later…**

Jess awoke to a noise for the second time. He sat up and saw that Les was no longer lying beside him. Just as he was about to call out her name, he saw her on her feet, going through an old shelf in the fort. He stood up and walked over to her, noticing as he went that he was back to his thirty-three-year-old self. "What're you doin', kiddo?"

Instead of answering, Les continued rifling through some old notebook papers Jess recognized as having his scribbles on them. Then, finally, she surfaced with an old photograph in her hand. There was dirt and dust all over her hands, but she didn't seem to care as she thrust the photo at Jess and said, "Leslie wanted you to see that."

Once he saw the picture, Jess realized his daughter wasn't speaking in the third person. In the photograph, he and Leslie were in a half-golden room, paintbrushes in their hands and gold paint all over their clothes and faces. Jess had grabbed Leslie from behind and lifted her off the floor; her mouth was open in a laugh that the man looking at the picture could practically hear. He recognized the smile on his face was more than just proof of having fun, of teasing Leslie—from the look in his eyes alone it was obvious that love was emanating from his gaze.

"Les," he whispered, finally tearing his eyes away from the picture. "How did you know where to find this?"

"It was so weird, dad," she said in a hushed voice. "But I had a dream. And…" She pointed to the photograph. "That's Leslie, isn't it?"

"That's Leslie."

"She was in it—the dream, I mean—, and she was talking to me about this place. And she kind of showed me around, and then was telling me all about you. As a kid, that is. So then she wanted _me_ to tell her about you now, so I did and then we came back up here, and she started digging through that pile of stuff I just went through."

"And then?" Jess pressed her, because she had stopped.

"And then that's where you came in," she said with a shrug. "She picked up the photo and told me to show it to you, because she didn't think you'd ever seen it…"

"I haven't."

"Bill took it, whoever Bill is."

Jess nearly said "your grandfather" but caught his mistake before saying it out loud. "That was her father."

"Oh…" Les cleared her throat. "Well anyway, there it is."

They stood there a few moments longer, listening to nothing except the rhythmic chirping of the crickets. Finally, Jess put the picture into his pocket and said, "We should probably head back, Les. We don't want Aunt Maybelle to get worried."

Les silently obliged, and followed her father out of the tree house and back to the bridge. When he came to a stop before crossing it and looked up at the trees, she imitated him. "What are you looking for?" she asked.

"It's hard to see because it's so dark," he whispered. "But up there—up there on that branch kind of jutting out, do you see? See the rope?"

"No," she said back, peering hard.

"Maybe I'm only seeing it because I know it should be there," Jess whispered. "There used to be a fine rope there, and Leslie and I would swing across to get to Terabithia. But then there was this one time that Leslie tried to use it, and it broke."

Les gave a small gasp.

"She fell into the river and what they say happened was that she hit her head on a rock and drowned," Jess continued, stepping tentatively out onto the bridge. "And she died. That's why you'll never see your namesake outside of a dream."

Les had followed Jess to the end of the bridge but before stepping onto the dirt path, stopped and turned around, facing Terabithia. "She told me we could come back," she said quietly.

"What?" Jess asked, going back to join her.

"Leslie told me, in the dream, that if we came back we'd always find her here," Les went on, looking out at the enchanted place. "Listen, dad…"

He strained his ears.

"It's the Terabithian Warriors," his daughter said, a familiar, bright gleam in her green eyes. "They're mourning our loss, but say she is safe with them, now. Yes!" She threw her arms up to the sky, addressing the sounds. "We hear you."

Numb in disbelief, Jess wouldn't be surprised if he was crying again. He warily eyed the blonde streaks that barely remained in his daughter's hair, and wondered if he was just seeing things, or if her hair was becoming less and less brown. She eventually turned back and went after Jess back onto the dusty road.

"Dad," she said, slipping her hand into his.

"Yeah, Les?"

"I want you to call me Leslie."

He smiled again, and a tear slid down his face and into their intertwined hands, which he gave a gentle squeeze. "Okay, Leslie. Okay."

**:::&-:::**

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, people, and don't forget to review if you do because I could really use some advice/comments. In the next bit I write I'm actually planning on _not_ killing Leslie off, so… there's something to look forward to. Oh and also, I kind of morphed a line from the last Harry Potter book in there, because I thought the whole "real-but-in-your-head" theory was so applicable to the idea of Terabithia.


	4. So Much for a Happy Ending

**A/N**: This one goes slightly against the rule I made for myself (actually two), so I'm curious as to what you'll make of it. Here, Jess and Leslie are in **eighth grade**, and it should be noted that **Miss Edmunds** is still their music teacher. I think this is the longest one I've done so far, so hopefully that will compensate if I take a break after this oneshot.

**:::&-:::**

Jess and Leslie had tacitly agreed that they wouldn't bring up the "Zack issue" anymore. When Leslie had first started going out with Zack a few weeks previously, Jess had shown a predilection for dropping something every time his name was mentioned and immediately adopting a dark scowl.

Of course, Leslie was completely ignorant to the reasons behind her best friend's dislike of Zack. She believed it was because in the beginning of the year, Zack Thompson had beat Jess Aarons in every single competitive sport the gym program had to offer. And not just _beat_ him but practically massacred him. Jess knew his only real strength lay in running, which ought to have helped in something like soccer, basketball or football, but didn't really when Jess had no talent for throwing, catching or kicking a ball.

"Just wait 'til we do relay races or something," Jess had said darkly to Leslie as they met up after their separate gym classes. "_Then _I'll get him."

The most annoying thing about it was that Zack had never been anything but kind and courteous to Jess. Unlike scores of other fourteen-year-old boys, Zack did not make fun of Jess or look down on him for losing all the time. On the contrary, he went out of his way to compliment the way Jess ran or succeeded in a different part of the sport, instead of criticizing him.

_It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn't so annoyingly nice_, Jess thought to himself one day. In fact he had just been thinking he would overlook Zack's unintentional thwacks on his own manliness, when Leslie sat down at lunch across from him, silent but flushed.

"What's up with you?" Jess asked.

"Nothing," Leslie said quickly, helping to immediately establish that this was a lie. Jess narrowed his eyes at her, and she turned a deeper red and looked away. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because your face is so red it looks hot enough to fry an egg on," Jess promptly answered, not noticing until after the fact that he had basically said her face looked hot.

Fortunately she didn't seem to have noticed. "Listen," she said quietly. "After school today, do you want to go to Terabithia?"

_That_ had come out of no where. Jess sat back in surprise. "Since when do you have to ask me?" he laughed.

"I dunno," she said with a shrug. "But do you want to go? I just think there's some things we should talk about." Glancing around the busy cafeteria, she lowered her voice even more and expounded, "Where no one else can hear us."

Confused but a little excited, Jess said, "Okay, we'll go."

He was glad Leslie had brought this up, because there had been something he had wanted to ask her about anyway. The eighth grade dance was coming up in a couple weeks, and as everyone was expected to go, he thought he would ask Leslie. Just as friends, of course, nothing more. He just knew it would be more fun (and socially acceptable) to go with someone than without.

The next class was Music, with Miss Edmunds. The other teachers finally seemed to have warmed up to her, deciding that although she was significantly younger and more freely-minded than they were, she was still a competent instructor. She had entered the room with her cart of instruments and immediately Jess had felt that same warm, fuzzy feeling he always got in her presence. He didn't notice Leslie roll her eyes as he stared, and barely caught the tambourine his friend tossed at him.

After school they had run down the road to Terabithia, swung across on the rope, and began walking to their tree house.

"So," Jess had said in the most casual tone he could muster. "The dance is in a couple of weeks."

"Yup," Leslie said when Jess paused.

"You wanna go? With me? I mean—as friends, of course," he'd added quickly.

He would never forget the stony silence that had followed this question, as if Leslie had been expecting but hoping he wouldn't ask. With a sigh she had seated herself on a rock just below the tree house and indicated for Jess to sit as well. Once he had, she'd told him quickly—as if it would be less painful to hear it fast—"I'm really sorry Jess, but I'm already going with someone else."

A startling feeling Jess could not define suddenly burst in his chest. "Oh, yeah?" he had asked, his voice unusually bright and cheery. "Okay. Who are you going with?"

The rest of the conversation played itself over and over again that night as Jess lay in bed trying vainly to go to sleep and trying to figure out why he couldn't think about anything else.

_"Zack. Zack Thompson. He asked me today, just before lunch…I'm sorry, Jess._"

_"So you said yes, then_." Well DUH. If she hadn't said yes, she could have gone with Jess. But he just had to ask anyway, just to be talking although the lump forming inextricably in his throat was making it rather difficult.

_"Well, yeah,_" she'd said, as if she also thought this was a stupid question. _"That's all right, isn't it? I mean… you don't mind?"_

He'd got up so quickly he nearly unseated Leslie. _"Yeah, sure why should I mind?"_ he had asked angrily, his insides aching unexplainably. _"It's just Zack freakin' Thompson, the biggest jerk in the grade, why would I care…_"

_"Jess, hold on! Zack's not a jerk at all, you know that—"_

_"Whatever, thinks he's so cool just 'cause he can kick a stupid ball—"_

_"What, you're jealous?! Since when are you jealous just because someone can play sports better than you?"_

_"Oh, thanks a lot, Leslie, for taking someone else's side." She was trying to make him slow down or stop walking away, but he just quickened his pace and said, "Leave me alone," over his shoulder. _

_And she did_.

That, he reflected, had been the worst part of it, really. She took his request to leave him alone to heart and they didn't speak for days. Those were some of the loneliest, worst days of his life. It wasn't until the next week when they had music together, and Leslie slipped Jess a candid photo of Miss Edmunds ("take a picture, it'll last longer") and he'd burst out laughing that they became pals again. At lunch Leslie very calmly explained to Jess that she and Zack were now going out, and he seemed to take it well enough. But then she'd noticed he was slowly tightening his grip on his sandwich so that all the jelly was oozing out onto his hands and tray.

It was after a few more Zack-related incidents that she and Jess had decided it was not a safe topic to discuss. This saddened Leslie, because as Zack and Jess were the two most important boys in her life (and Zack seemed so willing to hang out with Jess), she wanted the friendliness to be mutual. Unfortunately, she didn't think there was much a chance of getting Jess to like Zack and she supposed it was because of the humiliation he suffered every gym class at Zack's hands.

Zack had jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, the crush of many a girl at their school and it was beyond any of them why he should have chosen the unusual outcast Leslie Burke as his date. But choose her he did, and the eighth grade was just going to have to accept it.

Jess had never actually _seen_ the two of them together (thankfully all his classes with Leslie were Zack-free), and when he did for the first time, he felt a silent anger explode in him that was tenfold the feeling he'd got when Leslie first told him about her and Zack. He was sitting waiting for her at lunch, and they walked into the cafeteria, hand in hand. A few of Zack's jock friends said hi to him, and he greeted them back, but all Jess could focus on was their tightly interlocked fingers. Leslie was beaming, her mouth curved up into a beautiful grin that showed off her surprisingly perfect teeth.

"Hi, Jess," she said to him, but her voice sounded far away. Just as she and Zack had sat across from him, Jess stood straight up.

"Hey, dude, are you okay?" Zack asked, noting Jess's dark expression.

"Stomach ache," Jess grumbled before stalking out of the room. He slammed the cafeteria door shut behind him and proceeded to wander aimlessly around the school's hallways. This was the first time Zack had ever come to join Jess and Leslie at lunch, because up until this week the football coach had insisted on daily practice before school, during lunch, and after school (they had yet to win a game). As he was thinking about all this, Jess was vaguely aware that if a teacher caught him trolling around the school during lunch, he or she would tell him to—

"Jess!"

Whoops. Already caught. He turned around and saw Miss Edmunds coming curiously towards him. "Oh, hi," he said, relieved that it wasn't somebody who would get him in trouble.

"What are you doing walking around in here when it's a lovely day outside?" she asked him. "It's a nice afternoon for a race, isn't it?"

Normally it wouldn't take a tremendous effort to smile at her, but now he could barely even make a grin flit across his face. "I guess."

"I was just visiting Mrs. Burton," she said, meaning the school's art teacher. "And she showed me some of your drawings. They are _very_ good, Jess, really. I'm impressed."

"Thank you, ma'am." It made him feel a little better.

"Don't ever let the other guys tease you about that," Miss Edmunds said very seriously. "When I was a kid, my brother used to get made fun of for having talent with a brush, and now he's opening in museums all over the country."

"That's cool, Miss Edmunds," said Jess, striving to sound more enthusiastic than he really felt at the moment. "Thanks."

"Are you okay, Jess?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you're… troubled about something."

"I'm just… I don't feel very well," he mumbled.

"Do you want to go to the nurse's office?" she asked him. "Come on, I'm headed that direction anyway, want to check my mailbox."

"All right," he sighed. He bid her good-bye a few moments later, and walked solemnly into the nurse's office. "Jess Aarons," he said dully.

"What ails you, Jess?" asked the nurse.

He shrugged. _Nothing, really_. "I dunno. I just don't feel good."

"Could you…elaborate, possibly?"

He shrugged again. "Not really. I just feel… a little ill."

She looked at him shrewdly. "Well, if you can't be more specific, I don't think I can really send you home. You may, however, lie down here and rest until the end of lunch, and then we'll see how you feel then, all right?"

"Sure, thanks." Jess walked towards the bed and hangings the nurse had pointed him towards and calmly lay down to evaluate his feelings.

_Why am I making such a huge deal out of this? What does it matter that Leslie is going out with someone …I should be happy for her, he's a good guy. It's just because we're best friends, it's only natural I should be protective of her. She's like my sister, it's that simple._

But then the unbidden image of seeing Zack and Leslie holding hands entered his mind again. His dislike for the guy intensified, and he wanted to rip Zack's hands off so they could never touch Leslie again—and his mouth, too, while he was at it. Jess worried if maybe Zack had already kissed her…_no, it's too soon. They wouldn't have. _

And yet because Jess was still only thirteen, he didn't really realize that his feelings were more than brotherly.

Fortunately the nurse came by a short while later to tell him lunch was about to end, and he should get going if he felt better. Jess sat up with a start, thanked her stiffly, then made his way out of the room. Exiting the office he bumped into Miss Edmunds again, and figured all was back to normal because she was making the butterflies in his stomach flutter once more.

"Do you feel better, Jess?" she asked him, walking down the hallway with him.

"Yeah, I think so," he replied with a small smile.

She nodded at a poster they passed. "Are you going to go to the eighth grade dance, Jess?"

_Whoa, is she asking me to go with her?! _"Maybe."

"You should come!" she said. "I'll be chaperoning it—not like I think you guys really need chaperones, but I was only too happy to volunteer. Come on, Jess, it'll be fun. You should go, you'll be sorry if you don't."

"I'll think about it," Jess said, although he really didn't feel like going when he knew he'd just be the third wheel around Zack and Leslie.

"Good, I'm glad. Say, Jess, I was thinking of taking my nephews into the city this Saturday, and I was wondering—since you're so into the arts—if you could recommend a good museum to visit."

"Oh, well…" This was awkward. "I've actually never really been to one."

"You haven't?" she asked, looking surprised. "Oh, Jess, you really ought to go to one, they're fantastic and I'm sure they'd inspire you."

Before any more could be said, they had gone their separate ways. Jess didn't see Leslie for the rest of the day, until she unexpectedly showed up at his house around four.

"Hi!" she said, walking in without his invitation.

"Um, hi," he said slowly, trying to remember if they had made plans.

Apparently not, because he was completely thrown off when two seconds later, Ellie and Brenda came running down the stairs, squealing and jangling the keys to Ellie's new (a.k.a. fourth-hand) car. They smiled at Leslie and she returned it, weirding out Jess even more. When all three of them started giggling (which was so extremely not-Leslie he wanted to puke), he cried out, "What is going on??"

"Oh, we didn't see you there, little bro," laughed Brenda, patting him on the head. "But see, interestingly enough, our high school's Spring Fling is the same night as your little dance thingy, so since Ellie and I haven't had new dresses for like 5,000 years, mom decided she'd let us buy some new ones. And so we asked Leslie if she wanted to come along, too, since the dance is like this weekend and we know that she's going with Zack Thompson."

"You know Zack Thompson?" was all Jess had to say.

"Um, hello?" said Ellie. "I'm kind of going out with his brother…?"

"Right," Jess sighed, shaking his head. He did not meet Leslie's eyes as he gestured towards the open door. "Well, don't let me keep you."

"What? Come on, Jess!" Brenda said. "Let us dress you up, _please?_"

"Excuse me?"

"When's the last time you had something decent to wear? We haven't been to church since last Easter, and when else do you need to have a suit?"

"I'm not going to the d—"

"You funny boy!" Ellie cackled, literally pushing him out the door after Brenda and Leslie. "Of course you are. And we are going to make sure you're wearing the proper attire, too, don't you worry."

"I'm serious!" Jess growled, impressed by Ellie's strength as he struggled to get away. "Leave me alone, I don't want to go—to go _shopping_ with you!"

"So silly," Brenda sighed as Ellie finally shoved him into the back seat next to Leslie. She revved up the motor and took off with a bang, the radio full blast.

Jess and Leslie sat staring out opposite windows, but there was a minor issue with the back seat. It was so old, that the (empty) middle bit of it sagged slightly, and when Jess and Leslie sat down, they slowly started to slide towards the depressed center. The second their bodies touched they jumped apart, and Jess grabbed the door handle to prevent himself from sliding again. He thought he saw Ellie looking at him in the rear view mirror, but as soon as he looked back, she quickly averted her eyes with a smirk.

Once they had arrived at Francine's Formal Wear, Jess begrudgingly got out of the car and followed the three girls into the store. Brenda, not seeming to trust him to pick out his own outfit, spent a few moments in the men's department with Jess before throwing a suit at him—"After you try it on, if you like it, come and find us—we'll be over on the other side of the store."

And she walked away before Jess could ask her for more specific directions as to where they might be. Rolling his eyes, he stepped into the dressing room and shut himself up in one of the stalls. With a sigh he dropped the suit on the floor and plunked down on the little stool in the corner. Just then, he heard two familiar voices from the other side of his door.

"…see the Burke girl just now?"

"Yeah, can you believe Thompson's taking _her_ to the dance?"

It was Gary Fulcher and Scott Hoager. Jess stopped fiddling with the suit and listened as one entered the stall next to him and the other hung out in the hallway.

"It's such a joke," muttered Hoager.

"On who, that's the question," replied Fulcher. "I mean, the thing is that of course none of the girls would ever pick up on it 'cause they think Thompson is so 'sweet and innocent.' Pshh. _Please_."

"I know!" Hoager laughed. "Remember Rose Jenson?"

_I do, I think she moved last summer_, Jess thought to himself.

"Oh yeah," said Fulcher. "Wasn't Thompson the one to er, de-flower her?"

Jess fell off his stool at that and quickly stood up, his heart beating fast. Could Hoager and Fulcher be serious?

"Aw, dude!" Hoager groaned from inside the stall. "I look like a geek—this is two sizes too small!"

Jess heard the door open and Fulcher burst out laughing at the sight of his friend. Hoager told him to shut up, and then the two of them exited the room. In an effort to concentrate on anything but what he'd just overheard, Jess found himself putting on the suit that Brenda had given him. Once he'd put it on and glanced at himself in the mirror (_Huh, I don't look too bad!_), he heard the two bullies coming back into the fitting room. By now the subject had changed, but once Jess heard two doors shut, he quickly nipped out of his own stall to get away from them.

He wandered in the general direction of the women's department, staring straight ahead and trying to ignore all the undergarments he was currently walking through. He was relieved when he found the rows of dresses that looked like they might fit people his sisters' size, and indeed found them standing before mirrors in new clothes. Ellie saw him and turned around.

"Aw, Jess, you aren't supposed to wear them outside the fitting room!" she laughed pityingly, nudging Brenda. He hadn't even noticed he was still wearing the suit. "But you look so _cute_, you should get that one!"

"She's right, you know," Brenda said, nodding

"Well you're wearing the dresses outside _your_ fitting room," Jess growled.

"Yeah, that's because we don't have a choice," Ellie explained. "Of all the stalls that weren't taken, all the mirrors were cracked." She rolled her eyes. "This isn't exactly the _nicest_ store…"

"Listen, where's Leslie?" Jess asked. "I need to talk to her about something."

Brenda narrowed her eyes at him. "She's changing at the moment."

But just then, Leslie came quickly out of the fitting room. Any ideas of what he had planned on saying flew out of Jess's mind; almost in slow-motion he saw her head over towards a mirror with her back to him; she stared at her reflection and automatically did a small twirl.

The dress had no shoulders and was a dark green color. It made her eyes more green than blue, and it almost hurt Jess to see her look so pretty. She saw him looking at her in the mirror, and swiftly turned to stare back. Briefly she took in the sight of him in his suit, then busied herself trying to interpret the expression on his face.

"I just wanted to look pretty," she whispered so only he could hear her.

_Pretty? You look beautiful… and wow, I can't believe I just thought that my best friend looks 'beautiful,' what's wrong with me? _was all Jess could even think, much less say aloud. Leslie looked visibly awkward, and luckily for her, the Aarons sisters swept over at that moment to tell her how nice she looked.

It was another silent car ride home; this time Jess and Leslie had put their bags into the middle seat to avoid bumping into each other. The second Ellie took the keys out of the ignition, Jess leapt out of the car and was in the house before Leslie could even unbuckle her seatbelt. She was unsuccessful in keeping a certain sorrow out of her tone as she said goodbye to Ellie and Brenda (who exchanged significant looks) and walked back to her own house.

Jess went to bed without eating dinner. He was tired and confused. Today it had occurred to him for the first time that he might actually feel something akin to love towards Leslie Burke. Of course he'd always kind of loved her, but just the way it was normal to love a best friend. This was a different kind of love, and it made him feel extremely uneasy. He also couldn't help but think about what he'd heard Fulcher and Hoager saying, but he tried not to because it made him so uncomfortable.

It was hard to get to sleep. Around nine-thirty, Jess got up out of bed and crossed over to the window. The Burkes were sort of far away, but if he squinted, he was pretty sure he could make out Leslie's silhouette behind her closed shades. She was sitting, hunched over a desk, _probably writing something brilliant_, Jess thought. For at least five minutes he just stood there, watching her, transfixed and subconsciously hoping for her to open her curtain and see him. But then Maybelle called at him to shut the blinds to keep the moonlight out, and he quietly did so before going back to bed.

**That Friday Night**…

Jess still wondered how his sisters had managed to rope him into buying the suit and going to the dance, but there he stood on Friday evening, waiting for his date to arrive. Yes, his date, and yes arrive—it probably would have been the more stand-up thing for him to do to go and pick _her_ up, but they were getting a ride from Brenda and Ellie (who were meeting their boyfriends at the school). He had ended up asking Kim Ruth, a pretty red-headed girl in his English class with whom he got along fairly well (although he suspected she'd only said yes to him because her first and second choice for dates were already taken).

At seven o'clock, Kim showed up at the door. As Jess let her in, he registered that her sparkly, black dress was not very conservative—there were no sleeves and barely a back to it. He shook his head and walked in front of her. After his father had nodded his approval gruffly and his mother had remarked on how nice the lot of them looked, they were allowed to leave. As Ellie drove past the Burkes', Jess couldn't help but wonder if Leslie had already left.

Once they got to the middle school, Jess very gentlemanly assisted Kim out of the car, and then, after thanking and saying goodbye to his sisters, they walked into the already crowded gymnasium. After quickly scanning the large room, Jess deduced that they had arrived before Leslie and Zack, and then his heart gave a little jump when he saw Miss Edmunds—she was dressed nicer than usual, in a blue dress that set off her eyes (artists notice these things), which sparkled when she saw Jess and smiled.

Kim had found some friends and was chatting animatedly to them, looping her arm through Jess's without really even noticing. Jess wasn't really aware either; he was too busy looking at the door, the punch, Miss Edmunds, the dance floor, Miss Edmunds, the foosball table, Miss Edmunds—

"Hey, Jess, want to get something to drink?"

Kim's voice brought him out of his reverie. As they walked over to the food and punch table, it occurred to him that he couldn't really think of anything to say. He poured a cup of punch for Kim, and said in the most conversational tone he could, "You know, at my sisters' eighth grade dance, some kids spiked the punch. Ha! Made for one certainly memorable evening, I'll tell ya that!"

He laughed loudly, but Kim only stared blankly at him before hesitantly accepting the cup he was holding out. They silently downed the punch and few cookies before Kim squealed at the song that was playing. She grabbed Jess's arm and said, "_Broken! _I love this song, c'mon, let's dance!"

It was a command—albeit a gentle one—but a command none the less, not a request. So Jess found himself being dragged onto the dance floor, where dozens of other couples were awkwardly slow-dancing to the depressing song. Then, barely into the first verse, Jess saw the only couple dancing with any grace: Leslie and Zack, waltzing away as if they were the only people in the world.

"You'd think she'd get dizzy going in all those circles," Jess growled through his clenched teeth, although he was exaggerating (they weren't really twirling in circles).

"Oh, you don't get dizzy when you look straight into your partner's eyes," Kim said, as if she was trying to tell Jess something by staring avidly at his face. "You don't see all that other stuff whirling about."

But he didn't hear her. He was listening to the song.

"_…I'm broken when I'm lonesome/and I don't feel right when you're gone away_."

Leslie finally seemed to notice someone else was watching her, and after casting her glance around, she saw Jess. He didn't look pleased, but he held her gaze.

"_You've gone away… you don't feel me here… anymore_."

Jess didn't like where Zack was moving his hands. In his anger he inadvertently dug his fingernails into Kim's waist, and she had to tap him (lightly and then harder) to get him to ease up. He apologized half-heartedly before looking back at Leslie, who had decided to resume her staring at Zack.

"_I'm broken when I'm open/and I don't feel like I am strong enough/_

_'cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome/and I don't feel right when you're gone _

_away…_"

"I'm sorry," Jess said quietly, taking Kim's hands off his shoulders. "I can't do this. I have to go sit down."

"What's wrong, do you feel all right?" she asked concernedly, following him to the padded wall of the gym.

"I think I'll be okay," he said gruffly, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe I'd feel better if I had something else to drink."

Kim solicitously took his arm and led him back to the food table. _Broken_ ended, and was replaced by the much-more upbeat _Cotton Eyed Joe_ (so different in tone that it was almost disturbing). But that's the way it went—slow song, group dance, fun dance, blah, blah, blah, or something. Jess watched as Kim joined in _Cotton Eyed Joe_, _Since U Been Gone_, and some Black Eyed Peas song. When she came back to him, she was red in the face and smiling widely.

"Will you join in on the next one, Jess?" she asked, eating a brownie. "I mean the one after this one."

"I dunno, maybe," he said with a shrug. He saw Leslie and Zack approaching the table. "I'll be right back, I have to go to the bathroom."

"Oh, okay. I'll be here when you get back."

He nodded and headed for the door. Throngs of kids doing various things stood in his way, and it took him about five minutes to reach the bathroom. Once there, he shut himself up in a stall and tried to think. This worked for all of thirty seconds, because after that time the door opened again and some guys walked in.

"…so loud out there I can hardly hear myself think."

"Well? When're you gonna make your move, Thompson?"

"Relax, Hoager," Zack's voice said calmly. "It probably won't be until a lot later tonight, because I've got that Aarons kid stealing looks at her every two seconds." The guys laughed. "But don't worry …a couple more hours, and Leslie won't know what hit her!" More raucous laughter and they were out the door just as Jess came bursting out of the stall.

In the crowds in the hallways Jess lost Zack and his posse, but once in the gym, he saw Zack strolling casually towards the refreshment table where Kim and Leslie stood chatting idly. Jess quickened his pace as Zack put an arm around Leslie, softly stroking her bare shoulder. When Jess caught up to them, he was breathing heavily and reflected afterwards that he probably looked more weird than intimidating.

"Hey, there you are, Jess," said Zack, reverting back to his good-natured, All-American pretty boy self. "Havin' a good time?"

"Yeah, real swell," Jess snarled back. His attitude seemed to have shocked both Kim and Leslie, but he didn't care. Zack narrowed his eyes and slowly took his arm off of his date.

"You have a problem, Aarons?" Zack asked, and Jess registered the change to addressing him by his last name.

"Yes, I do, _Thompson_," Jess said, wishing he wasn't shorter than Zack. "I would appreciate it if you'd stop pawing my friend."

Leslie was clearly embarrassed by the verb choice, but Zack only snickered. "Come on, Jess, don't be bitter. Sorry if you wanted to ask her here, but it's not my fault if you're just too chicken to ask a girl these things."

"She might be here with you tonight," Jess said, his fists clenching. "But I'll see her tomorrow, same time as always."

"I'd count on a little later," was what Zack should not have said.

As soon as it slipped out, two things happened instantaneously and at the same time: Leslie gasped at him, and then before he knew what he was doing, Jess swung one clenched fist at Zack's face, full-force. The blow knocked Zack to the ground, where he started to moan in agony. Blood was gushing from his nose, and he tried to stem it as a crowd gathered curiously around them. He got carried away by a chaperone and some of his friends, crying pathetically.

Shocked at his own nerve, Jess looked at his fist, and then at Leslie. He hadn't been sure what her reaction would be, but he hadn't pictured the ugly grimace on her face that took off his own fleeting, proud smile.

"Jess, what's the _matter _with you?!" she cried, giving him a shove before storming out of the gymnasium.

He stared after her, not knowing quite what to do to. Behind him he heard Kim sigh and say, "You should go after her Jess …or something."

"Thanks Kim." Jess bolted in the direction he'd seen Leslie go, and after a few moments, saw her stalking straight outdoors. He followed her past the packs of students still crammed in some of the hallways until he'd also gotten outside, where the night air was cool and refreshing after the stuffy gym.

"Leslie, wait up!"

"Go away, Jess, I don't want to talk to you!" she yelled at him, throwing herself against a gritty outer wall.

"Come on, Les, relax—"

"You've been so on and off for weeks, I don't even know who you are anymore!" she said. "And then you go and pull a stunt like that, punching my date—"

"You heard him, Leslie!" Jess shouted, now annoyed that she wasn't thanking him for taking out the jerk. "Didn't you get what he was implying?! He's not as good as everybody thinks, he's just a… a good-for-nothing!" He crossed to the wall as well so he could face her, and was startled to see her shivering body and shining eyes. "Are you—are you crying?" he asked weakly.

"So what if I am, I'm entitled to it!" she sniffed. They both realized that this was the first real argument they had ever had, and at the same time Leslie was so confused about how all this was making her feel that she had broken down.

"I don't think I've ever seen you cry before…"

"Well yippee for you, Jess Aarons!"

_I can't believe she still looks so beautiful, even when she's crying_. Her tears made her eyeliner run and her eyes red, but she didn't care and neither did Jess—he'd still never seen someone look that pretty before.

"I'm serious, Jess, go away and leave me alone," she said, giving him another shove (although this time weaker).

"No," he said automatically, recovering from the push and standing still.

"I mean it, Jess, I want to be alone…!" The anger in her voice was mounting, but Jess couldn't bring himself to listen.

Instead, he pushed her back against the wall and trapped her there, an hand planted firmly on either side of her to keep her from getting away—and kissed her. It was awkward and weird at first, but then Leslie (finally) seemed to relax. As soon as she did, though, Jess broke it off and looked at her, wondering what had just possessed him to go and take the initiative like that. They stared uneasily at each other for a few seconds, wondering if they were supposed to say something. But then they tacitly decided that there were no words to be said—Leslie threw her arms around him and kissed him again; Jess's hands slid smoothly off the brick wall and onto her back as he kissed her with equal ardor.

She took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead, both his cheeks, and then his lips again, making some kind of wordless noise all the while. Once all this stopped, a smile slowly crept onto Jess's face.

"Wow," sighed Leslie, also starting to grin. "I can't believe I came here with _Zack Thompson_. Ew."

Jess laughed and offered her his hand. "You want to go back inside?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, taking his head as they walked back to the building. "I mean, if you want to be seen with me. I'm sure I look a mess."

Before they went through the doors, Jess surveyed her. "Just one thing." He took off his blazer and used it to cover her bare shoulders. "There," he said, clapping her on the back. "Much better."

She giggled as they walked inside. "I was feeling a bit drafty there, anyway."

People stared as they sauntered casually into the cafeteria, hand-in-hand. The chaperone who'd taken away the bleeding Zack made a movement to go get Jess (and presumably reprimand him), but Miss Edmunds—knowing all too well what the looks on her students' faces meant—restrained him.

"People are watching us," Jess observed.

"Yes, well, we can't really be all that surprised, after that stunt you pulled," Leslie remarked. "I mean, what with the punching of my boyfriend and whatnot."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make a, er, spectacle of that," Jess apologized. "I hope it didn't make you feel weird or anything…"

"Eh, maybe a little," Leslie said. "But I don't care as much about them thinking I'm weird as they might think I'm a player or something!" To explain this comment, she drew Jess into another kiss, which did indeed make several of the girls gasp and immediately whisper about all they'd ever known about Leslie Burke and what they had never guessed.

Jess ran his hands through her hair, wondering how quickly the story of all this would reach his family. But as warmth began to slowly seep through him with each second Leslie was kissing him, he didn't really care. As they broke apart, he smiled at how Leslie Burke-ish Leslie looked just then: somewhat tousled hair, dirt on her face from when they'd been outside, and his blazer over her nice dress.

"So, Queen Leslie," Jess said in a stately manner after considering all of this. "Wouldst though enjoy a nice slow dance?" He indicated the floor, where people had just started swaying to Sam Phillips' _Reflecting Light_

"Why, King Jess," she laughed, taking his hand. "I thought you'd never ask me."

**:::&-:::**

**A/N**: Okay, people, be happy. I was almost going to add a really sad ending to this, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I figure Jess and Leslie deserve at least _one_ happy ending, much as it goes against my principles. If I wrote another chapter, maybe I'll stick the ending on there.

Also, if you have a Facebook, I'm going to shamelessly plug my own group here—it's called "Just close your eyes, but keep your mind ::wide open::". (I'd just post a link, but this site is annoying and doesn't let you do that). New members are, of course, always appreciated, so if you have a Facebook and love Bridge to Terabithia enough to join a group about it, feel free to sign up and post your feelings:)


	5. Ladder to Paradise

**A/N**: Sorry it's been so long since I added a new one! This is my longest one-shot so far, but I'm not sure how people will receive it. It is based on my new obsession, a Korean miniseries called **"Stairway to Heaven." **Korean, as in Asian. And we all know that Asian things usually do not end up in the traditionally happy style, so you'll just have to see how I handled this one….

**&-**

"_Your friend Leslie's dead."_

_**No…**_

"_She drowned in the creek this morning. Seems she tried to get across on that old rope you kids have been using, and it broke. They think she hit her head."_

"_No, it—it's not that kind of rope; it wouldn't break, it…couldn't…"_

"_I'm sorry, son."_

"_You're lying. Sh—she's not even dead, you're LYING!" _

_**Leslie wasn't dead. She couldn't be. She wouldn't die and leave me here alone, completely alone—**_

_**Monster-mouth Meyers, even? **__"When my husband died, people kept telling me not to cry. People kept trying to help me to forget. But I didn't want to forget…Leslie was a great student. I don't get ones like her very often…So I realize that if it's hard for me, how much harder it must be for you."_

_**Stop talking to me about it, just STOP, if you know how it feels when someone you love—someone you really **__**love**__**—dies, then you should know that I don't want to think about this anymore—!**_

"Dad, wake up. Dad!"

Jess woke with a start. His heart beat at an alarming rate; he tried to calm down as his persistent little daughter continued to shake him. "You were crying again," she said, looking sadly at him as he sat up. "Were you having another bad dream?"

"Yeah," Jess groaned, swinging his legs over the feet of his bed and squinting his eyes shut against the morning sunlight. "Yeah, another nightmare. They can get pretty scary, can't they, Mary?"

"Dad," Mary said crossly, and Jess dimly registered the likeness between the girl and her namesake (his own mother). "I'm the one that should be scared today. It's my first day of _third grade_!"

"Yeah, that kind of sucks," Jess groaned, getting off of his bed and leading Mary downstairs to the kitchen.

"You aren't helping, dad."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean that," Jess said, scanning the shelves for something that could be passed off as breakfast food. He turned around with a box of Cheerios in his hand to see that Mary still looked incredibly depressed. Setting himself down across from her with a bowl in his hand, he said, "Remember mom?" _Dumb question_.

"Yeah," she replied stiffly. She didn't like to talk about her mother, because she hadn't seen her for a long time. What got her confused was that she knew her parents weren't divorced, only "separated," which, although Jess had tried multiple times to explain, still didn't make much sense to her.

"Well," Jess sighed, and he began dunking some of the Cheerios into the bowl in front of Mary, "Right about now she'd probably want me to remind you that _her_ great-grandmother, at the age of only nine—"

"—came across the sea from Poland to America, all alone to meet her dad," Mary sighed, having indeed heard the story many time from her mother. "Yes. I know."

"Don't worry, kid, I'll drop you off and I'll be there right at 3:00 to pick you up. No worries, all right?"

She made a sad effort at a smile. "Okay, dad."

Half an hour later, Jess had stopped his old, green pick-up truck across the street from the school. They both watched what looked like hundreds of kids filing towards the school; some alone, some in groups, some with their parents. Noting this, Jess asked Mary if she wanted him to walk her up.

"No dad," she said, sounding somehow confident and terrified at the same time. "If my great-…. great-grandmother could cross the sea alone at the age of nine, I can cross the street alone at the age of eight."

Jess laughed and bade her good-bye. He watched her get to the crossing guard on the other side and was about to rev up his motor again when he noticed a particularly enchanting-looking woman walk by his truck. With his hand still on the keys in the ignition he followed her with his eyes. It seemed that her own daughter had not been as brave as Mary, because the woman appeared to be leading her across the street. Something fell out of her bag; a kid stooped to pick it up, but somehow Jess managed to leap out of his car and grab it off the ground first.

"Hey, miss!" he called, but she was too far away. Feeling a little weird (being surrounded by a bunch of little kids), he waited for the OK from the crossing guard to catch up. _Geez she walks fast_, he thought, speeding up until he was right behind her. "Excuse me, miss, but I think you dropped this."

She turned around to look at him, as did her daughter. Jess felt his heart skip a beat as, for a moment, her blue-grey eyes settled on his before transferring to the wallet he was holding out. Her mouth stretched out into a gorgeous smile, and she took it from him saying, "Oh my goodness, thank you! Don't know what I would have done if I'd lost this—thank you very much!"

Stuck for words, Jess only grinned and shrugged.

The woman smiled with a puzzled look at his nonverbal reaction. "Do you have a kid who goes here?" she asked conversationally.

"Yeah," he said quickly, glad to be able to respond without sounding asinine. "My daughter—Mary Aarons, she's in third grade."

"I know Mary!" gasped the woman's red-headed daughter. "I'm in third grade too, and I think we're in the same class!"

"Oh, right, sorry," said the woman. "This is my daughter, Jessie."

Jess immediately laughed. The woman and her daughter looked slightly offended. "No, I'm sorry," he said. "_My _name's Jesse, too! I'd forgotten it was more commonly used for girls."

Red-haired Jessie giggled, then looked up to her mother. "If Mary went in already, I can go it alone from here, mom. I'll see you at 3:00, okay? Bye!"

"Bye, love you!" the mother called out after her. But Jessie did not appear to have heard, because she gave no reply before disappearing into the throng of students. The woman turned back to Jess awkwardly, giving him one of those what-can-you-do looks. "Well, see you later …Jesse."

He couldn't let her leave, not yet—he wanted to talk more. Skipping a few steps to catch up to her at the curb, he said, "Everyone just calls me Jess, though. Jess Aarons."

"Glad to know it, Jess," the woman said with a pleasant laugh, shaking his hand. "I'm Leslie, Leslie Barlow."

A thousand memories and images instantaneously entered Jess's mind, hitting his head like so many bricks. The fact that he had had only last night one of the most terrifying dreams in years—re-living his childhood's most horrific moment—made him stare at this woman in silence for so long, that neither of them noticed the crossing guard trying to desperately wave them to the other side of the street. She tried to read the look he was giving her, but was at a loss for what it could possibly mean.

All of a sudden, Jess jumped slightly, smiled, and said, "Leslie, huh? That's a nice name. Really pretty."

Leslie grinned uncertainly back. "You, ah—you know a Leslie?"

Pause. The traffic guard waved them across once more, and this time they did walk, passing a group of anxious looking kids. "Yeah. My best friend as a kid."

She laughed. "Is this like you and my Jessie? A boy named Leslie?"

Jess forced as a laugh. "Nah, nah…Leslie was a girl. I haven't thought about her for a while, actually. Good kid, Leslie. Good kid."

They seemed to have reached her car, because she had stopped with her hand resting on the handle of a green jeep. But she was not, for some reason, able to take her eyes off of Jess, so she didn't do anything. "This kid," she said softly, her face full of somber understanding. "Something happened to her, didn't it?"

Jess smiled the kind of smile where the teeth are gritted, eyes squinted, and overall not that sincerely happy. Hands in his pockets, he slowly said, "Yeah. Yeah, we were ten when it—it happened."

She gave him a rueful smile in return. "I'm sorry." She sounded it. "Look, are you new around here?—ahh, that's a stupid question. My kid knows your kid, sorry. It's just that I don't think I've ever seen you around, before… of course, we're kind of new, or relatively new, anyway. We just moved in about two years ago." She paused and then laughed awkwardly. "Guess that isn't so new, is it? Time goes by fast."

"Oh, well, the whole school thing was never really my job," Jess answered. "Mary's mom took care of that, but then when we kind of, we kind of separated recently and she decided to leave Mary with me…"

Recognition burst onto Leslie's face. "Oh! Oh, you're Chrissy Aarons' husband! I remember her, yes, she was… interesting." And by interesting, Jess got the feeling that she meant something along the lines of scary psychopath. She grinned sympathetically again, making Jess's heart flutter oddly in a way he knew it hadn't in years. "I'm sorry you two have separated," she said quietly.

Feeling rather like an angsty teenager, Jess shrugged again and tried to laugh it off. _Why can I not articulate anything today?_

"Look, would you like to have lunch with me today?" Leslie suddenly asked him. "I feel like maybe we would…we'd get along."

Taken off guard by this direct approach, Jess tried not to look surprised (nor sound too eager) as he replied, "Sure, that'd be great. Especially seeing as how our daughters appear to be friends and all, it might be a good idea to get to know each other." _Uh-oh, I hope she didn't think there was a double meaning to that_. He quickly recovered by saying, "Is the diner all right?"

"Oh yeah, I love that place!" Leslie laughed. "Haven't been there in a long time! I mean I'd love to go for brunch now, but I've got a doctor's appointment I simply cannot miss …so would noon be all right for you?"

"Yeah, sounds great," said Jess, barely able to believe his luck. He gave an odd chuckle. "I'll see you then, …then."

"Yes, goodbye for now."

"Bye." _I can't believe it_, Jess thought, strolling confidently to his car. He had a date for the first time in at least half a year; he'd been asked to lunch by a woman who looked like the love child of Deborah Harry and Michelle Pfeiffer (were such a thing possible). Maybe not the romantic sort of date, but a date with a woman nonetheless. He couldn't contain a ridiculous smile as he drove away, trying to remember the last time he had felt this giddy, giddy as a kid. _Probably not since I __was_ _a kid_.

Then he recalled it, the last time he had felt this excited. A woman had asked him out then, too, although in retrospect he acknowledged that it had not had the possibility of a romantic connotation. Miss Edmunds had called him up on that rainy Saturday and invited him to go to a museum in the city with her… just the two of them …and then Leslie had died in his absence. Leslie Burke. And here he was, about to embark on a date of some kind with a Leslie Barlow.

_Oh no, I'm not going to turn into the Jimmy Stewart character from "Vertigo," am I? _he immediately wondered. He had only watched the movie a few weeks ago, and had been very disturbed when Stewart, thinking his beloved gone forever, found a girl who looked extremely similar to his former girlfriend and subsequently tried to mold her into an exact replica of her. Jess quickly consoled himself. _No, I won't do that. This woman is nothing like Leslie, and besides, I was interested before she told me her name_.

Maybe he could take a brief nap now that he was back home. He hadn't exactly had a restful night's sleep, thanks to the horrifying dream that caused him utter pain every time he thought about it. He was able to slip into slumber fairly quickly, but it was only to go once again into a world plagued by faded, mismatched memories:

_"Class, we have a new student this year, Leslie Burke." _

_"Are you following me?" "Uh, no. I live over there."_

_"I check my air. I don't have enough time to see everything there is to see…but that is what makes it so special."_

_"Jess, Jess! Janice Avery stole my twinkies!"_

_"What's the matter, Hoager? Afraid a girl's gonna beat you?"_

_"Your friend Leslie is dead."_

_"Next time, we should invite Leslie to go. She would like that."_

_"We need a place. Just for us…what if there was a magical kingdom that only we knew about?" "I dunno, what if?" "Well, what if the only way we could enter it was by swinging on this enchanted rope?" "Enchanted rope?" "Yeah, come on!"_

_"__We__ rule Terabithia—and nothing crushes us!" _

Terabithia! Jess was in that weird state of being half-asleep but half-awake at the same time, and it was all coming back to him. His and Leslie's magical kingdom, which he had not thought of extensively in ages, years maybe. Their hideaway, their safety, their special, special place that had been only for them. He tried to remember the last time he had actually set foot in those old woods, but he couldn't. Maybelle had gone once, a few years back, when Jess's daughter was very young. She wanted him to take Mary there and share the spot with her.

"Come on, Jess, she'll love it!" Maybelle had tried to convince him.

"No," he had replied harshly. "No, Maybelle. It was our place."

"You let me go there, Jess."

"You're my sister. It was what Leslie would have wanted, she would have approved of it. I'd feel weird going back there with—with another kid."

Maybelle had given him an affronted look he could still recall quite clearly. The next day she rang him up and told him she'd gone to Terabithia herself and declared it a fine old bunch of land. The tree house was even still there, but the bridge had been decimated since. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but the news that the tree house still stood and that the land wasn't completely gone had boosted his spirits.

Forcing himself back to the present, Jess checked the clock and was alarmed to see that it was already 11:50. Knowing full well that it usually took him about fifteen minutes to get to the diner, he bypassed changing into a nicer shirt and rushed back out to his car. Jess broke quite a few traffic rules in order to get to the diner, and by some miracle, wound up getting there five minutes early.

He took a seat by one of the windows and tried to look casual. He looked down at his watch and then ordered a coffee. Someone came by and asked him if he was using the other chair at his table; his response was unintentionally terse and the person walked away looking annoyed. Out of the corner of his eye, Jess saw a green jeep pull up. Leslie Barlow walked out of it and through the door of the diner at exactly the moment when all three hands on Jess's watch were pointing to the twelve.

"Sorry, am I late?" was the first thing she said as she joined him at the table.

"No, no, you are actually _right_ on time," Jess told her, pointing to his watch. "A little suspicious, actually."

She gave a tinkling laugh and slung her purse off her shoulder. "I admit I do have a strange habit of being incredibly punctual, and very often it throws people off. It's either one of my better or worst traits, I can't really decide."

"Better, definitely," Jess assured her. "I was a spazz and got here too early in an attempt not to be late."

Leslie laughed again and Jess was finally able to relax. When the waiter came by she ordered some kind of tea, then faced Jess with her chin resting on interlocked fingers. "So, Mr. Aarons. Is your daughter the athletic type?"

He was a little surprised by the question. "Oh, well, actually yes. She's shown a preference for sports more than other…" He struggled for the right word. "More feminine things, I guess you might say." Jess snorted a laugh. "Her mother wasn't entirely pleased, I have to say."

"Yeah, I remember one time last year when Chrissy came to their class and taught them all needlepoint," Leslie remarked. "I mean, my kid told me all about it. She was never a great shakes at stuff like that, either. She was over in the corner with all the boys, struggling along with it and trying to play soccer with one of the spools of thread."

"Ah, yeah," Jess sighed through gritted smile. "Chrissy was really disappointed that Mary didn't get into it." He paused. "Is that why you asked if she was athletic? Is it why our kids get along?"

"Oh," Leslie said, straightening. "Well, actually, I was going to ask you if you thought she'd be interested in joining a soccer team for a local league."

"Yeah, I'm sure she'd love to!" Jess answered enthusiastically as the waiter brought Leslie's tea. "Soccer's her favorite sport, I was actually going to try and look into signing her up for a league this year!"

"Well, Mr. Aarons, look no further," Leslie told him, calmly preparing her tea. "Some of my friends and I are taking the term 'soccer mom' to a whole new level by coaching girls' teams. I've also been looking for somebody to be my assistant coach." She gave him a pointed look that he was too distracted to catch.

A single droplet of hot water had remained on her upper lip when she'd taken a small drink of her tea, and Jess was staring it, transfixed. Leslie pressed her lips together to speak again and the droplet disappeared into her mouth. "Jess? Mr. Aarons?"

"Sorry," he said, recovering quickly. "Did you say you were looking for an assistant coach?"

"Yes, would you be interested?" she asked, glad that he seemed to have finally grasped the idea. "I asked my husband to do it, but practice would coincide too much with his work schedule…"

"Your husband." That was a hard blow. She was married? What was she doing asking him out like this, then? What kind of person was she?

"Oh—no—sorry," she said hurriedly, recognizing the abashed look on Jess's face. "It's not like…." Leslie sighed heavily. "We're getting divorced," she said quietly. "So it would have been really awkward anyway if he had decided he had the time to coach. It wasn't my idea to ask him, it was Jessie's, my daughter. She begged me to ask him to do it, because she thinks that…" To collect her thoughts she drank down more of her tea. "You know how kids can be with divorces, they think it's all their fault. She thought maybe if she got her parents to coach her together, it would make things all right."

"Oh…I'm sorry," Jess whispered. "I didn't mean to assume, I mean…"

"No, it's all right," Leslie said. The hard look vanished from her eyes and she became cheerful again. "So, what do you say? We'd have practices every Thursday evening from 6:00 to 7, and then a game every Saturday at eleven, but game times can be subject to change—not by much, just an hour or two."

"When does it start?"

"Er—this week," Leslie answered, looking guilty and brushing some blonde hair out of her face. "My weasel of a husband refused to let me know up until the last minute what his decision was, so I've been scrabbling madly for about two weeks now to find somebody who could do it."

Jess leaned back and evaluated her for a moment. She stared determinedly back at him, trying to no avail to read his expression. Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah, okay."

"Oh, that's excellent!" Leslie cried, letting loose with her remarkable smile once again. "Thank you so much, Jess, this is going to be great. And since we're coaching together, it means our daughters can be on the same team—which I'm sure they'll really appreciate, seeing as how they seem to be friendly with each other."

"Yes, it sounds like it'll be fun," said Jess.

"And it won't interfere with your job, then?"

"No, it would be hard for anything to do that," Jess answered. "I'm a freelance illustrator for magazines."

"Are you really?" Leslie asked, clearly impressed. "Which ones?"

"Oh, I've worked for _Twenty-Six_, _The Globe_, _The Virginian_, and I've even done a bit of work for _Calliope_."

"I subscribe to _The Globe_," Leslie said, lowering her finished cup of tea. "And I love to read _Calliope_ when I can get my hands on it." She gasped. "What's your middle initial, then, Jess?"

"Oliver," he said with a smile.

"Are you JOA?" she asked. He nodded. "No way, I love your cartoons!" When Jess laughed and gave her a "yeah right" kind of look, she earnestly added, "No seriously, they've always been my favorite! Oh, what was that one in the issue a couple weeks ago… there were a couple of horses looking at another one who was prancing about all obnoxious, and one of them said to the other, 'She's been acting that way ever since someone told her she looked like Katharine Hepburn.'"

"You got that one? So many people didn't like it, said it was old-fashioned."

"Are you kidding me? That's too bad; I thought Katharine Hepburn never goes out of style!" Leslie chuckled. "But you say you're an illustrator? Have you done any of their covers, or just cartoons?"

"Actually I just did _The Globe_'s last one," Jess answered, looking into her blue-grey eyes for a few seconds. "It was the one on—"

"—Evangelists versus Mormons, I remember," she finished off for him. "That was a good one, too. Tammy Faye Baker facing off with that Jacob or Joseph Smith, on top of the map of the US, yeah, that was good. Interesting article, too."

"They can all be pretty close-minded sometimes, can't they?" Jess asked, hoping to keep the conversation on his work going.

Leslie hesitated before answering. "Yes, some of them. But other people can be just as narrow-minded about them, too. You know, atheists or anyone else of any other faith. If you ask me, it's pretty close-minded to think just one way about any sort of denomination. The article was too biased in that way…"

"I'm sorry," Jess muttered. "I didn't mean to offend—"

"Not you, oh no, not you!" she interrupted him hastily. "I meant the writer, I thought your illustration was great. People," she said, signaling the waiter, "just need to keep an open mind about this sort of thing."

"Yes," murmured Jess, admiring the deft manner in which her one hand ran through her attractively shaggy hair. "You've got to keep your mind wide open." He shut his eyes and looked away.

"Say, that's good!" she said, cuing him to open his eyes again. "Nice slogan, you ought to incorporate that into one of your illustrations sometime." When the waiter came by she ordered a chicken sandwich and Jess got the same.

"It isn't mine, though," he said once the waiter had left.

"What, the sandwich?" Leslie asked.

"No, the slogan. My friend Leslie told me it once. She was really keen on the whole imagination thing. Encouraged my drawing. I probably wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for her." He laughed. "I'll bet that sounds weird, doesn't it? I mean a ten year old kid having such a profound impact on your life."

"It doesn't sound strange at all," Leslie said tenderly. "I kind of wish I had a friend like that growing up that I could remember so distinctly."

Suddenly Jess felt very uneasy, like he was about to cry. _Cry??_ _You have got to be kidding me_. Fortunately the subject of Leslie Burke came to an end when the sandwiches arrive and the two adults ate mostly in silence—but a relaxed silence, strangely lacking in the uncomfortable nature that was usually adopted when a date of Jess's went sour. But this felt all right. They didn't speak again until the check was brought.

"What are you doing?" Leslie asked as Jess pulled out his wallet.

"Uh, getting money?" he said with a one-sided smile.

"Absolutely not! I asked you out, and I'll pay," she insisted, shoving his hand away from the check.

Her touch was warm on his hand; he couldn't quite explain it, but it just felt inexplicably right to have their hands together. She seemed to have felt whatever it was too, because she did not release him for several moments. Then she appeared to catch a hold of herself and quickly retracted her hand. "If you insist on being the man and paying, I'll let you do that if we go out again."

"Fantastic."

_Next Thursday…_

"Dad, hurry, we're going to be late," Mary urged Jess as they backed out of the gravel driveway.

"No, we won't," Jess said calmly, going exactly the speed limit down their street. "The field isn't very far away. You're just nervous."

"No, nervous-excited," Mary said anxiously, and Jess was happy to be able to hear the eager anticipation in her voice. "I've always wanted to play in a league! And you're my coach, and I get to be on Jessie's team—this is gonna be awesome!"

"I'm glad you feel that way," Jess told her. The traffic light they were coming up on had just turned yellow, and, going against instinct, Jess put on the gas to just barely make it through.

"Dad, you shouldn't have done that," Mary chided him in a low voice.

"You were the one who wanted to be on time!" Jess joked her. A few moments later they pulled into the parking lot by the field, where a few of Mary's teammates were already congregated. He glanced at the car's clock. It was 5:58. "See? Totally fine."

He had barely stopped the car when Mary leapt out of it to join her friends. Parents were grouped around one side of the field talking, and when Jess approached them, he informed them, "Hello! I'm Jess Aarons, I'll be one of the coaches."

Some of the parents introduced themselves before they left, and one with short, black hair laughed almost derisively at him when she was the last one there. "Jess Aarons, get out of town!"

"Ummm…"

"What, you don't recognize me? It's old Wanda Moore!" the woman cackled, practically punching him on the shoulder. "I was living in D.C. for a while, and who would've thought I would want to move back to this little old hamlet, huh?"

"Oh, Wanda Moore!" Jess said, though it had taken him a bit after her talking for him to recognize her. "Gosh, it's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah! We thought soccer would be a good way to get our kid comfortable and set with some new friends," Wanda said, hitching her bag up on her shoulder. She was surprised at how good-looking Jess had become. "They offered a coaching job to me, but it's not really my thing." Her eyes lit up. "Is your wife the assistant coach, then?"

"What? Oh, no…"

"Really? All the other coaches are husbands and wives."

"Huh. Well, actually, the other one should be arriving in about…" Jess checked his watch. "Four seconds."

Wanda raised an eyebrow at him, then jumped when a large jeep behind her flashed its brights towards them. Giving Jess a quizzical look, Wanda bade him goodbye, said she'd be back at seven, and hurried quickly to her car. Weird though it had been seeing her again, Jess didn't dwell on it for long. Leslie was getting out of her jeep, swinging a large, mesh sack out over her shoulder. She had on a green baseball cap with a short ponytail sticking out the back. He felt his mouth twitching up into a grin as he walked over to her.

"Hi," she said brightly to him. "Excited?"

"Very," he said back. "Do you need any help?"

"I think we're good," she said. "Jessie's at the back getting out the crate with the balls in it, and I've got everything else we'll need in this sack."

With the two of them working together, it only took Jess and Leslie three minutes to set up all of her cones. They called over the team—who had been busy practicing with the soccer balls that Jessie had set out onto the field—and called role. Once everyone was accounted for, Leslie started to explain about the league, and also told them that although games were usually every Saturday, they wouldn't be holding their first one until the next weekend because all the coaches wanted to get in at least two initial practices before the starting the official tournament.

"Now tonight, we have to make one of the most important team decisions," Leslie announced. "Not positions, no, not yet. We have to choose a name!"

"We get to pick?" one of the girls asked excitedly.

"Yup, you sure do. But we all have to agree on it, so…" She lowered her voice so only Jess could hear. "So this could take a while."

After several shouted suggestions (most of which were among the lines of The Pretty Ponies, The Lightning Racers, and the Koala Bunnies), they had yet to come to a unanimous decision. One of the kids proposed that a coach come up with a name, because she had little faith in her team members to make up a name they'd all like. Leslie looked to Jess, asking, "How about it? Any ideas?"

"The Terabithians," he replied automatically. He looked back at her, as if hoping that some sudden spark of recognition would show up in her eyes, as if she would suddenly clap a hand to her forehead in remembrance of his and Leslie's secret place.

But no. She gave him a confused smile and chuckled, "What?"

"The Terabithians!" said a seemingly democratic member of the team. "I like it! Short and simple. Well, sort of simple, anyway. Who's in favor?"

To Jess's great surprise, each of the girls raised her hand enthusiastically in the air. Leslie calmed down their cheering, then handed Jess her clipboard. "Here," she said as the girls repeatedly chanted their new team name. "You'd better write it, I have _no _idea how to spell that!"

A few weeks passed, and the Terabithians were considered a most formidable team. The closest they had come to defeat was on the fourth Saturday, when their forward missed a foul shot and they ended up going into overtime (a first in the league). At the end of the next practice—which was being held on Friday on account of bad weather on the previous day—Leslie asked if there were any questions from the team. Her daughter raised her hand.

"Mom, would you show everyone _your_ foul shot kick?"

Leslie grinned, looked at Jess, then quickly down at the grass. "Nah, come on, kiddo. No one wants to see the old lady play ball!"

But from the reaction of the hyped-up little league players, they _did_ want to, so after much incredulous laughter, Leslie asked Jess if he would play goalie. He was only to happy to oblige, and decided that he would let her make the goal so as not to let down the team. Placing the ball near where he supposed the foul line would be, he walked to the opposite side of the field as Leslie. Sticking in for a referee, one of the girls on the team counted to three and then whistled.

Leslie ran. She didn't just run, she _bolted_, like lightning, down the field so quickly that Jess barely had time to comprehend how far she had gone in so little time before he heard a loud "thud," which was the sound of her foot colliding with the ball. She had a hard, determined look in her eye that he knew he had seen before—

WHAM.

The ball had come at him so speedily that he didn't even have time for surprise when it hit him in the forehead, consequently sending him to the grass. He rolled his eyes as the team all screamed dramatically in unison, and heard all their little eight-year-old feet rushing towards him.

"Daddy, _daddy_, are you okay??" Mary cried, rushing up to his head.

"Yeah," he groaned, "I'm fine."

"Coach Aarons, you went down like a bowling pin," one of the other players informed him in a recognizably rough voice.

"Thanks, Bebe."

"No problem, coach."

He felt somebody who was older than eight gently lifting his head and placing it in her lap. His eyes were involuntarily watery as he looked up and saw Leslie Barlow's head, upside-down from this point of view, looking concernedly down at him.

"Jess, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yah, I'm all right," he answered automatically, though he reasoned that there was probably a nice bump (or at least a bruise) forming where Leslie had hit him. From the other side of the field, he heard the sound of a large van sweeping into the gravelly parking lot, loud '80s music blaring.

"YOU GIRLS READY FOR A PARTY?" the driver shouted.

"Hey guys, that's Mrs. Moore!" Jess said, trying to sound excited and trying to sit up. "Does everyone have their stuff?"

Wanda Moore had offered to have a slumber party at her house in honor of the team's consecutive winning streak, and all the girls had been instructed to have their bags with them at practice so they could leave right away for the party. Saying over and over again that yes, he was fine, he managed to get all of them (even Mary, who refused to leave until he was able to get up on his feet) to go off to Wanda's van. Once they'd all piled in, he could just imagine the team telling Wanda about this incident.

"Don't worry, I'll have 'em all back in time for the Championship game tomorrow!" Wanda called from the window of her van, honking and driving off.

"I'm really sorry about that," Leslie said behind him. Jess was pretty sure he could hear her trying to keep the amusement out of her tone. He turned around to face her and sure enough she was smiling guiltily at him. The grin faded somewhat and a little more seriously she asked, "Really, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm—oh!" Jess cried out. He sank to his knees. "Oh no, I—I think I'm blacking out! Ahh—help! Ouch!"

"Ha, ha, Jess, come on," Leslie said, holding out her hand to help him up.

"Jess? Am I Jess? Who are you, do I know you?" he asked, accepting her help.

"Shut up."

"I couldn't resist," he laughed. Jess gingerly reached up to his forehead and touched the spot where the ball had hit. _"Ouch! _That was stupid."

"Yeah, it was," Leslie said flatly, gently taking his hand away. "You've got a nice little welt raising up there, sorry."

"Oh, that's all right," Jess said. "My face was getting too aesthetically pleasing anyway, it was about time something came along to disrupt it."

That made her laugh; that beautiful, incredible laugh that Jess would do anything to try and make her do. "If you ask me," she said, "your face is more aesthetically pleasing _with _the welt. Makes you look more manly. In fact…" They had reached the parking lot, but instead of going to her jeep, Leslie walked over to Jess's car. In a quiet voice he wouldn't have normally associated with her, she said, "While the girls are having their slumber party, why don't we… why don't we have a party of our own?"

Jess raised his eyebrows at her. Since that first "date" at the diner, he and Leslie had been out only a couple times, and it had always been very platonic. But there was definitely something in her voice and in the way she was looking at him that suggested quite otherwise. Before Jess could answer, Leslie stepped closer to him, placed a hand on his cheek, and kissed the welt on his forehead. It didn't hurt at all; in fact, for the few seconds that her lips lingered there, it felt as if all the pain was being drained out of him. When she pulled away, he could hardly speak. Then—

"Come on." He took her hand and took the few steps to his car. "I need to take you some place."

They drove in silence for about ten minutes, then Jess stopped in the middle of a road. Leslie looked out her window. In the twilight she could just make out a dirt path lined with trees, but as the sun was setting behind them, couldn't quite see where it led to. Jess unbuckled his seatbelt and she followed suit. "Where are we?" she whispered.

Looking over his shoulder at her, Jess's only reply was one of his single-sided grins. Then, without warning, he started to charge down the dirt path. Leslie stared after him, and looked up and down the road they had parked the car on. A strange air of excitement seemed to beckon her after Jess, and so, after a few moments' hesitation, Leslie pelted after him.

It didn't take long for her to catch up.

"Incredible!" Jess called after her, as she smiled jubilantly and surpassed him. "You're incredible!"

They broke off of the path, and Leslie let out a laugh of delight as she saw that they were headed straight onto a long, grassy field. She actually did a few cartwheels down a slight hill and taunted Jess to try and catch up. How beautifully she ran…

_… "How'd that race go today?"_

_Maybelle had to answer for him. "There was a new girl in school, and she beat him. She beat all the boys_._"_

His thoughts were interrupted when he nearly slipped on a small patch of snow. Snow? This early in the year? Well, it was only a little, and just that powdery, fine kind of snow—but it was definitely there. After a few minutes of avoiding more snow patches, he and Leslie came to a stop in front of a stream.

"Phew!" Leslie panted, running her hands through her bright, blonde hair. "How the heck did you come to choose that spot?"

Ignoring the question, Jess pointed across the stream. "That's Terabithia."

"Terabithia?" she repeated, squinting across and still breathing heavily. "Nice. Is there a way to get across?"

"There used to be a way," Jess muttered, more to himself than to Leslie. "Over here, come on…" They walked down along the stream for a little while, until they reached a shallow area with some rocks going across it. Jess gallantly went first, then told Leslie that it was safe to cross.

"These are your old playing grounds, aren't they?" she asked reverently, once they'd gone back to the spot Jess had intended to start at.

"Yes." He had subconsciously taken her hand as they walked along the trees. "I could've caught that ball, you know."

It took her a second to get what he was talking about. "Yeah, I thought you could have," she said. "You're usually an excellent goalie during practice when we're trying to teach them moves."

"Yeah, that's just it," he said. "I'll play goalie, and sometimes you'll kick a ball or two. But I've never seen you run like that before."

"I shouldn't have really run that far," she said. "In a real game, the foul wouldn't be taken from the opposite end of the field. But I know Jessie wanted to see me run because that's something I do relatively well."

"Relatively?" Jess laughed. "You're amazing! You're…" He stopped himself. "I don't want to… sound like a broken record, here. I'm sorry, but you just remind me so much of…" To his slight embarrassment, his voice broke. "Of her."

She squeezed his hand in hers. "She came with you here, then, didn't she?"

"Yeah, Terabithia was all Leslie's idea," Jess said. They had come upon the tree house. "Lord… it _is_ still standing."

"Did you two build that?" Leslie asked, sounding shocked.

"No, it was there when we found it," Jess said. "It looks like it may have even had some inhabitants after us, though, too—it's painted! The paint looks old, but I know it was just plain old wood when we had it. And there's a rope ladder or something over there, see? We didn't have that."

"How'd you get up there, then?" Leslie queried.

"We'd climb the trunk," Jess replied. "Here, look, it's easy." He jumped onto the tree and started to scale it. After looking doubtfully at the shabby old house, Leslie decided there was nothing to lose and followed him up after it. She was surprised to see the floor of the tree house covered in a thin layer of snow; Jess was looking up at a large hole that had formed in the ceiling.

"Boy, we sure spent a lot of time holed up in this old place," Jess said with a rueful smile. "It was where we could escape—from school, from bullies, from family, from just everything." Without really thinking about what he was doing, he lay down on his back, directly below the hole in the ceiling so that he was looking out at an azure sky. "It nearly destroyed me when she died. We were so young. She was so young."

Leslie wanted to be able to say something of comfort, something that would sound intelligent and right for the moment. "Maybe…" she started, sitting cross-legged next to him where he lay. "Maybe that's what was intended. Maybe that was what… God?" (she sounded unsure as she said it, wondering if Jess believed it, if she believed it) "intended for you. You didn't get to spend all the time you wanted with that friendship. But maybe that is what made it so special."

_"I check my air. I don't have enough time to see everything …but that is what makes it so special_._"_

"I don't take anything for granted anymore," Jess said, still staring through to the sky. "I don't take _any_thing for granted." He turned his head to look at her, planting his cheek in the light snow but he didn't seem to notice or care. "I definitely don't take you for granted, Leslie. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you."

And he meant it, too. He knew it and Leslie knew it. She hesitantly gave him an imitation of his one-sided smile, which he returned before looking up once more at the ceiling. There was a small patch of snow on his cheek where he had laid it briefly. Leslie restrained the impulse to wipe it off.

Instead, she crawled hands-and-knees to his other side, collected some snow on her fingers, and dabbed his other cheek with it. "There," she said as he looked at her in surprise. "Now you're symmetrical. Much more aesthetically pleasing."

"It's making my face a little cold, though," Jess snickered.

In response to this, Leslie leaned over Jess and calmly pressed her lips to the snow on his face, sucking it lightly into her mouth. It felt like rose petals grazing his cheek; he could merely blink at her. Now lying vertically upon Jess, she used the same method to rid his other cheek of snow. She wanted to ask something like, "Are you still cold, now?" but, looking into his eyes, found her throat strangely constricted. She couldn't be smart now, not when he was giving her that look, not when there were feelings stirring up in her chest that she hadn't quite felt in years….

Without another word, Leslie leaned down and gently brushed her lips against Jess's. When she pulled back she saw that his lips were parted slightly in surprise, but not objection. Taking this as her cue, Leslie opened her mouth very slightly and nipped ever so softly on her co-coach's; as the initial shock waved over him, Jess was momentarily kissing her back. For some reason, though, both were anxious about being too hard.

Quite unexpectedly, Leslie scooped up a small handful of snow and, still kissing Jess, dropped it right on his face. He laughed loudly, turning his face away but holding Leslie to him tightly. She laughed right back as they rocked there on the floor, feeling suddenly like little kids who were sharing a deep secret. Once they'd gotten all the giggles and chuckles out of their systems, they sat facing each other on the floor of the tree house.

"Chrissy and I are never getting back together, I know it," Jess murmured, reaching forward and tucking a strand of Leslie's wayward hair behind her ear.

She smiled at him, feeling inexplicably happy. Life; "Terabithia"; this moment of November. "My divorce will be through with soon, Jess," she told him quietly, happily, feeling very warm despite the fact that she was sitting in some snow. "No more Leslie Barlow. A few weeks from now, and I'll be back to good old Leslie Burke." She stood gracefully, almost like a geisha would, and crossed over to some of the shelves that were still standing in the tree house.

Jess didn't move a muscle. He didn't even know if he was breathing.

Leslie noticed his immobility, and curiously walked over so that she was facing him. "Jess?" He was staring at her, unblinking. "Oh, I've come to know what that face means, now," she said, sounding the tiniest bit exasperated but more melancholy. "I've reminded you of her again, haven't I?"

"Your name," he said shortly. "Your maiden name is Burke?"

"Yes."

"You're Leslie Burke."

Jess got to his feet so fast that it made Leslie jump; she was frightened by his expression as he stalked towards her and grabbed her by the arms. "Leslie! Leslie Burke?! Why didn't you tell me?!? You know who I am, Leslie, I've told you everything I showed you everything, I brought you back to Terabithia!"

"Jess, what are you doing?" she whimpered, sounding scared for the first time. Then the idea struck her. "She—her name was Leslie Burke?"

"YES! Leslie, I know it's you! You run like her, you laugh like her, you smile and think just like her, _Leslie!_"

"Jess, I'm sorry," she said, her voice coming out in sharp breaths as she wrestled herself out of his grip. "I'm not that Leslie, I don't know what you're talking about!" She made to go back out the door and climb down the tree.

"No, Leslie, _please_, don't!" Jess begged, beating her to the door and standing in front of it. Leslie was startled to see that there were tears in his eyes, running down his face, streaming into his mouth and nearly obstructing his speech. "Don't leave me, I know you're her!"

"I'm…not…" Leslie stammered, slowly backing away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the rope ladder hanging outside one of the openings in the tree house. Jess saw her glance at it, but moved too slowly to stop her from grabbing the rope and swinging outside.

"LESLIE, DON'T—"

Ropes couldn't be trusted in Terabithia, surely she knew that—_"Your friend Leslie is dead—tried to get across on that old rope you kids been swinging on and it broke—she hit her head—" _The memory caused Jess to yell and his voice nearly overpowered the scream he heard coming from outside; Leslie Burke Barlow's scream resonated off the forest walls as he knew she was falling down, down, down ….he rushed to the opening they had seen the rope ladder from. The rope was broken.

"Leslie!" He jumped to the other side of the fort and leapt down the tree, barely noticing as the branches scratched his arms and face. Just barely managing to hit the ground on his feet, Jess ran hap-hazardly over to where he could see Leslie's fallen, broken body. "Leslie, Leslie! Get up!"

Her eyes were open. For a wild moment Jess thought for sure she had died, then suddenly Leslie screwed her eyes shut and-reopened them, staring at Jess with a mixture of fear and confusion evident in her face. He was sitting right over her, asking her if she was okay. Looking scared, she backed up quickly, looking hurriedly at her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was.

"Terabithia?" she asked, her voice breaking as her eyes landed upon the tree house. "I'm…" She jumped when Jess moved towards her. "W-who are you?"

"Leslie, are you all right? You just fell," he said. "Leslie, it's me… Jess…"

"Jess?" She squinted at him in the semi-darkness. "Jess Aarons?" Recognition dawned on her face. "But I've been with you this whole time, I—ahh!" She pressed both hands to her head, suddenly sobbing. Memories came flooding back to her—Jess Aarons' little sister Maybelle, telling her that Jess was in the city with Miss Edmunds—running to Terabithia in the hard rain, taking the rope in her hands, swinging across—feeling the rope break and plummeting to the icy waters below—

Jess had taken her into his arms without her noticing. "Jess—Jess?" she garbled through her tears. "What's…" She was cut off when he silenced her with a kiss, this one somewhat more aggressive than the one they had shared in the tree house. He was stroking her face, her hair, her neck, her clothed leg, any part of her he could reach but this was getting much too intense for her.

"You're right," he panted when she broke it off. "Leslie. What happened to you?"

"I….I can't remember…" Her breaths were coming heavier now, but Jess thought it was just as a means to stem her racking sobs. "Oh, Jess, please… help…" Leslie's eyes closed and did not open. Jess panicked, but could see that she was still breathing. But not matter how he shook her, she would not stir otherwise….

_The next morning_

"He hasn't moved from her side ever since he brought her here," the doctor told Bill and Judy Burke quietly, looking in through the room's window from the hallway. "Even after your daughter's heart monitor stopped going, he's refused to let us to move her to the morgue."

"I can't believe this," Judy sniffed, trying to wipe her face free of tears. "Jess Aarons—how did he—?"

"Judy, we've got to go in there," Bill said, taking his wife's elbow and leading her towards the door. "He's going to want an explanation." They opened the door to the room and Jess immediately looked up on them. Bill had been ready to see Jess angry, but had not expected the look of pure hatred seething from his gaze.

"Explain," was all he could utter through gritted teeth.

Bill and Judy took the chairs on the other side of Leslie's bed, away from Jess. "Oh, my boy," Bill whispered, putting his arm around Judy and trying his best to comfort her. "It isn't simple."

"I'm not simple-minded. Go on, try."

"We…believed she was dead," Bill whispered, looking down at the tiled floor. "We never recovered a body, we were told she must have drowned." He took a deep sigh. "Pure conjecture, I guess you might say it turned out to be. Well, we didn't know that. Judy and I wanted to get as far away from this town as we could, you must understand how that felt. Any memories tied to Les—Leslie and this old place, we just couldn't…"

It seemed Bill couldn't go on. Fortunately, Judy had regained enough to strength to go on for him. "It was amnesia, Jess."

"Amnesia."

"Yes. The river had carried Leslie's body down into the next town, and she washed up near the backyard of a very nice family. They saved her, it's a miracle, they say, that she survived. When she couldn't remember who she was or where she was from, they took her in and put up posters in all the surrounding counties, trying to locate her parents. We might never have gone back if someone hadn't finally bought our house a few years later. We—"

"I went back to the town to settle the deal," Bill continued for her. "I was just leaving when I saw the—there was an old, faded poster with my little girl's face on it!" He was crying unashamedly now, and Jess was almost embarrassed to have to watch. "I got to the home she was at right away and told them everything …I showed them the picture of Leslie I carried in my wallet always …she was so happy to have us, Jess, so happy and we just couldn't believe it…but she couldn't remember anything from the life we described to her…"

"Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you tell me??" Jess asked harshly, still angry at them. "Do you realize what it would have meant for me to find out she was alive?!"

"Jess, honey, we tried to find you," Judy protested. "But you had moved!"

It occurred to him that she was right: a few years after Leslie's death, his family had finally moved into a slightly bigger house two counties away that was closer to his father's work. In fact Jess had only just moved back into his old home nine years ago, when he had gotten married and his wife had wanted to sample small-town life. He was distracted when he saw a white-faced, light-haired man appear at the window of the room. "Who is that?" he asked sharply, nodding at him.

Bill twisted around in his chair. "That's Jack," he said. "Jack Barlow."

"Make him leave."

"Jess," Judy said uncomfortably. "He's Leslie's husb—"

"I don't care!" Jess cut her off. "He's nobody to _me_, and he was nobody to her, either. He filled in as coach for our kids' soccer game today, that's all he's done!" He nearly stood up in fury when he saw the team of Terabithians spilling into the hallway from the elevator. "That idiot! He brought them with him!"

Perhaps fearing further wrath from Jess, Bill and Judy hastily got up and said they would quell the noises coming from outside the room. Tears silently made their way down Jess's face as he saw his and Leslie's daughters jumping up and down, their mouths forming the words, "We did it, we won!"

_Leslie…please_, he thought, closing his eyes and taking her lifeless hand in his own. His tears dropped down onto it. _Please, I can't lose you, not again_…

There was a beeping sound from the machine on his left. Then another, and another. He felt his hand getting squeezed back.

"We did it, Jess….we won."

**&-**

**A/N**: What a softie I'm turning out to be! I really wanted to make Leslie die in this, but for some reason I just couldn't bring myself to! I guess I'm not as strong as Katherine Paterson. But now I guess this will have to keep you guessing each time I update, wondering if I'm going to make the ending happy or sad…

In my defense, I've actually made quite a few Bridge to Terabithia **music videos **on **youtube**, which are much quicker and easier to do than one-shots. Please, if you like my stories, check out the link on my fanfiction profile to go to my youtube profile and view the movies I made. They were still difficult, and I have quite a range of Terabithia ones: happy-go-lucky ones like **"Somewhere Only We Know**," "**There She Goes**" (both versions); odd/sad ones like "**Sweet Sacrifice**" and "**Like You**"; and then the really depressing ones like "**She's Not Sleeping**." It would really mean a lot to me if you would check them out and review and/or rate them!! Thank you!

(oh, and click the link _below _that on my profile to see Jess and Leslie's kiss carried out in live-action, by the actors of "Stairway to Heaven." Drag the video to 5:03 and enjoy from there if you want to!)


	6. Christmas in Terabithia

**A/N**: It pains me to think of how long it's been since I added to this series!! It pains me even more to think that I started this one in December but wasn't able to finish it until now, which explains the whole Christmas-in-July thing (why I have a Christmas one-shot up in the summer). This might come off as a tad corny, but I hope you like it!

* * *

It was completely dark and totally silent. Leslie had no idea where she was, only a sense of being—kind of like that state where you are barely awake, still mostly asleep, lying in bed and waiting for your mother to come shake you for what she swears will be the last time. Only Judy wasn't coming and Leslie could not open her eyes, nor could she move a muscle.

"Leslie Burke?" called a distant voice.

Her throat opened up, and she took what felt to be the Breath of Life. "Yes," she managed to squeak. At least she could talk.

Somebody touched her eyes. She automatically opened them, and could finally see; it felt as if she had been lying immobile in complete darkness for hours. Leslie blinked a couple of times to see if it would make the image around her more clear. It appeared as if she was in some kind of a hospital; everywhere she looked in the room there was pure whiteness. But that couldn't be it, because at the same time, what she assumed to be walls had a misty, floaty look about them, as if they would dissolve on contact. Glancing about for the body of whoever had addressed her, Leslie turned her head to the left and saw a tall, lean man in a grey flannel suit standing next to her.

"Sir?" she asked, sitting up (for she had just realized she was lying in a bed, under white sheets and resting back on a large, white pillow). Normally she wouldn't have said something as formal as "sir;" more likely "excuse me," or just "hey," but something about the man's presence seemed to command the word "sir."

"We weren't expecting you so soon, Leslie."

Leslie stared at him. She ran a hand through her hair and, in the silence following the man's statement, realized what must have happened to her. The fall from the rope must have killed her. Where was she now, then? Where did one go after one died? And who was this man in the suit?—she was afraid to ask, and the tremulousness of her voice betrayed it. "Who… who are you?"

"Let me introduce myself," he said with a kind smile. He extended a hand. "Dr. Coleman, James Harold Coleman. You can just call me Jim, if you like. Or you can call me doctor, or Dr. Coleman. Some people feel more comfortable that way."

"You're a doctor?" was all Leslie could think to ask. "But I feel fine, I mean I don't …I don't think I need a doctor." She hoped her tone hadn't offended him, but really, did people need doctors once they had died?

"I'm not that kind of doctor," he said, sitting in a chair that seemed to have just materialized out of thin air. "No, I'm a doctor…of the mind, you might say."

"Oh…are you one of those guys who shows people the ink blots and they have to tell you what it looks like?"

Jim laughed. "That's what some people do in my profession, yes. But I haven't done that for some time now. Leslie, do you know what's happened to you?"

She scanned the room again. In a hollow voice she said, "I've died."

"Yes," the doctor replied solemnly. "Six months ago, actually. I'm terribly sorry that I couldn't get here sooner, but there were so many issues that needed to be worked out. In fact, technically you still aren't first on my list, but there is something happening down on earth that requires your specific attention—hence my coming to you now."

"My…_my_ attention?" Leslie repeated, her head swimming. "Doctor—mister—er, Jim, I don't think I understand."

Jim shifted in his chair; leaned back and crossed his legs. "Leslie, you did know someone named Jess Aarons, correct?"

_Know _him? Her heart leapt merely at the mention of his name. She hadn't thought about him in what felt like ages (although apparently she hadn't thought of _any_thing for ages; she'd been in some kind of dead hyper-sleep). "Yeah, I know him. He's the best friend that I've ever had."

"I think he feels the same way about you," said Jim. "Your death affected him very deeply, Leslie, very deeply. That is, of course, what we would expect, especially from someone as young as Jess. With some well-chosen words from his family, though, he seemed to get well-adjusted enough to be able to go on living his own life without your death scarring him permanently."

Not sure that she comprehended everything the doctor was saying, Leslie asked, "What needs my attention, then?"

Sighing, Jim gestured towards one of the room's walls. It suddenly evaporated into nothing and was replaced by something that resembled a large television screen. Leslie could see snow-tipped evergreens and colored lights; kids sledding and making attempts at building snowmen. "This is the, er, world," said Jim.

"It's Christmas," Leslie whispered, smiling slowly.

"Yes, that is, it will be tomorrow," Jim replied. "This time of year—it gets everyone in high spirits, doesn't it? Suddenly all the world is happy, and nobody seems to have any woes or cares. You wouldn't think anyone had reason to be depressed or sad around Christmastime, would you?"

"No," Leslie answered, looking shocked at the very thought.

Jim nodded at the screen. Leslie jumped at seeing Jess there, projected on the wall, sitting by the river next to Terabithia. It was a profile view of him alone, legs dangling over the edge of the riverbed, head hung low. Watching him in awe, Leslie crept out of her bed and walked slowly towards the wall that Jess's image was on.

"He…he's crying," she whimpered. Her hand shakily went up to the wall and touched his face, as if trying to wipe away the tears. "Jim, he's crying! I've never seen him cry before—he's upset, what's wrong?"

"It's Christmas, and he feels completely alone," the doctor answered. "During the happiest season of the year, everyone loves everyone else and everybody cares about everybody else, but he can't share it with his best friend. To be quite honest, Leslie, he is desperately miserable. Sometimes, when it seems that all other people are happy, one feels his greatest losses the most."

His patient (as it were) was only half-listening. Leslie's heart ached as she looked up at Jess, shaking a little from the cold and from his tears. She pressed herself against the wall, wishing dreadfully that it would melt away and leave her alone with Jess. But just as this soothing thought had occurred to her, his image disappeared altogether and the wall was back to its old, white self.

Jim's low voice brought her back. "Like I said, this kind of mourning is to be expected in people who have lost their greatest friends. But in the case of young Mr. Aarons, I'm afraid that his loneliness may be taking a far more drastic turn than we would have liked. And by drastic, Leslie, I mean that any signs of improvement in his mood seem to have long gone."

"Use smaller words, doctor," Leslie sighed, going back and sitting on her bed. "I'm only a kid, remember?"

With the shadow of a smile, Jim looked down at the clipboard Leslie had just noticed he was holding. He then remembered the utter seriousness of the situation and frowned. "I hate to have to tell you this, Leslie, but to get right to the point, your friend is thinking seriously of taking his own life."

"He—" Leslie stared at him. "He's…you're joking, right? Please tell me you're just pulling my leg, Jim."

"Wish I could, Leslie," he sighed. He leaned back in his chair and studied the papers on his clipboard, looking pensive. "We wanted to talk to you about this not only because you were his best friend, but also because our records indicate that before you met Jess, you also consid—"

"Yeah," Leslie interrupted him. Her heart had suddenly grown very cold. She could not bare the thought of Jess wanting to end his life, but at the same time, knew exactly how it felt: to be alone, without friends, isolated from family. "That's not going to happen, Jim, not on my watch. What do you want me to do?"

Finally, another smile graced Jim's face as he put down the clipboard. "Leslie, do you know anything about guardian angels?"

**:&:**

Jess rolled over in his bed and looked out the window. It had been another sleepless night, but he wasn't sure what to attribute it to. Maybe the snowstorm had kept him up, maybe more bad dreams that he couldn't remember. Well, snow or no snow, there were still chores to be done and only he could do them. Trying not to make too much noise (so as not to wake Maybelle), he crept out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, he had milked the cow and was just about to check on the family's vegetables when he heard it—a strange, almost unearthly sound emanating from somewhere in town. Where had he heard it before? Oh, yeah. Those were church bells. But why were they ringing at 6:00 on a Saturday morning? He tried to ignore it and go back to work, but he just could not force himself to concentrate: every ten seconds or so, another dull ring would sound and subsequently dissolve into the air.

_I should stop whoever's making that racket_, Jess thought to himself, walking to the edge of the Aarons property. _They're going to wake up the whole neighborhood_. Of course, he reasoned, the bells usually went off every hour anyway—but he couldn't remember them ever starting off this early. But Jess supposed he just really wanted an excuse to go see what was going on. He ran to town and after a while, he started to think that the bells weren't really ringing anymore but that they had established a kind of mantra that was now stuck in his head. Finally, he had reached the snow-covered steps of the small church, and was pretty sure he wasn't imagining the soft yet loud noise coming from within its walls. _I wonder why no one else is out here_, he thought as he trudged inside. _Usually this is something people in this town would get annoyed about_.

"Hello?" Jess called in a normal voice as the church door shut silently behind him. The ringing had stopped, and there was suddenly an eerie atmosphere in the old building. "Is—is anyone there?" he asked, his voice cracking a little from nerves. Walking carefully among the pews, Jess looked for the door that would lead up to the bell tower—he didn't have to go very far; just a few rows in he spotted a passageway with a spiral staircase.

This could be potentially dangerous, he thought as he scaled the steps. Who knew what he'd find up there? A drunk person, maybe, or a criminal. Either way, at least that would be something exciting, and after having spent roughly half of the last six months in some kind of uninspired stupor, some excitement was very welcome.

But when Jess pushed open the door to the small belfry, it was to find it empty of any other human being. The rope connected to the bell swung ever so slightly, as if whoever had been pulling on it had just run away. _But that's impossible, I would have seen them coming back down the stairs… unless… _Jess rushed to the open window (maybe the wintry breeze was responsible for the subtle swinging of the rope), but did not see anyone on the ground below who might have jumped. The street was empty, just as empty as the church.

Disappointed, Jess turned away from the window and prepared to go back down the dizzying staircase when he noticed a thick, black book open near the rope of the bell. The wind coming in from outside shuffled its thin pages back and forth, but a long, red piece of material was stuck in the midst of it, as if marking a place. Jess debated whether or not he should just leave, but his curiosity got the better of him and he walked over to the heavy-looking book.

As soon as he picked it up and gave it a good look, Jess immediately recognized it as a Bible. He felt stupid for not placing it sooner, especially considering that he was in a church. Once upon a time his parents had liked to pull the old family Bible off the shelf and they'd all sit together and pass the book around, reading verses in turn. But with each year, these readings had diminished, until it had reached the present and the book sat unnoticed and untouched. Jess didn't really care about that—the Bible was just some old book that had been written hundreds of years ago and was incredibly difficult to understand, not to mention _read_.

But despite his annoyance, Jess turned to where the bookmark was, and his eyes were drawn instantly to a passage that seemed to be written in red ink:

_**"The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away, and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil. Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death." **_

Jess shut the book loudly, and the noise it made reverberated off the enclosing walls. This caused him to jump, and he nearly fell back down the spiral staircase. He walked carefully down the steps, making sure he didn't trip, then exited the church even more slowly. _What the heck was that all about? Am I going crazy?_

On his way across the street, Jess saw the front door of the local book store open. The owner had kicked it wide enough to step through, and Jess noticed he was carrying a large box—which he then placed carefully underneath the awning, away from the light snow that was falling. He disappeared back into the book shop, then reappeared a few moments later with a sign that read "Christmas Discount: Up to 70 percent off," with an arrow pointing down to the cardboard box he had just set out. Then he noticed someone watching him, and saw Jess a few yards away.

"Hi there, son!" he called out. "Bit early for you to be up, isn't it?"

"Bit early for you to be open, isn't it?" Jess countered, walking closer.

"Normally, yes," the bookstore man replied. "But during the holiday seasons I like to open a few hours ahead of my competitors—you know, people get really into that mad rush to buy presents, and I'm beating them all off by having a sale _before _the holiday even happens! You see the profits of…" He noticed Jess's vacant expression and laughed. "I won't bore you with the economics, kid. But if you've still got any gifts to buy for Christmas, look no further than right in front of you." He gestured to the box of books with a genial smile, then retreated back into his store.

Warily, Jess approached the store and looked blankly down at the books. He still needed to get his mother a present, but he was stuck for ideas. His sisters had been easy: makeup from the dime store (hopefully they wouldn't be to tell it was that cheap) for the older ones, and second-hand dolls for the younger. He'd saved up a bit of money doing extra chores for his dad, who had vehemently insisted that he receive no presents. So now it was only his mother Jess had to think about, and he had absolutely no clue what she would really want.

**"How about a book?"**

Jess looked up, expecting to see the bookstore owner again, but no one was there. That wouldn't have made sense anyway, because the voice that had spoken was not the low, masculine one that belonged to the man who had just spoken a few minutes ago. No, this one was higher-pitched, with a much lighter attitude driving it. But he was alone on the street, he soon realized. _Oh, no. I really __am__ going crazy_.

He had nearly made it back to his house when Jess involuntarily came to a halt in front of the Burkes' old place. No one had bought it yet. It just sat there, snow covering it up, making it look cozy as a Christmas card. Jess deliberated there for a moment, when a sudden wind seemed to come out of nowhere, sending a miniature, horizontal avalanche of snow in his direction. Ducking down to get out of its way, he watched the wind carry the snow past his house, and further down the path until it faded it out of sight. It looked like it was headed for Terabithia.

Terabithia? He hadn't even been there in the last month or two; the most he had done was gone up to the river's edge and let his legs hang over them. While at first going there with Maybelle had seemed to ameliorate the pain, it had gradually become harder and harder to do, like bringing his little sister there was a mockery of Leslie's life. Didn't he have any respect for the dead? Clearly, or else he wouldn't have left that nice wreath there in memory of his best friend.

Jess was walking as he pondered all of this, and he was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice he had been going down the snowed-over path to Terabithia until he found himself standing in front of the half-frozen stream. It was strangely unnerving but enticing at the same time, the thought of crossing over into Terabithia. Above him there was still a foot or two of broken rope, swinging somewhat in the wintry breeze. To the left there was the bridge he had constructed, perfectly safe but was it worth—

**"I'd take the bridge if I were you."**

"GAH!" Whirling around, Jess saw a figure out of the corner of his eye; yelled in fright again, and fell over onto his back. He screwed his eyes shut, terrified of whoever may have found him here. The gentle voice tried to get him to open his eyes, but they remained clamped closed, even as he was sure he felt someone pulling him to his feet. When Jess finally had the courage to see who it was that had startled him, it was to discover that he appeared to be completely alone again. He turned slowly in a circle, half-expecting whoever it was to jump out of nowhere.

"What is going on with me today…"

His breath escaped him again when he was sure he heard footsteps going across the bridge, although now he wondered if that was just the sound of his heart hammering against his chest in terror. Had he disturbed the Terabithian spirits somehow? Were they messing with his head? A particularly heavy gust of winter wind shoved Jess closer to the bridge, and he resignedly decided he'd better cross it. Unless he was hearing things again, it sounded like there was light laughter in the air.

There were no footprints in the snow on the path Jess was on; in fact, there were none that he could see anywhere. Even when he'd finally reached the dilapidated tree that had once been home to him and Leslie—

_Leslie_. It was the first time he had let himself think her name in a painfully long time. Every time he did, it sent a tremor through his body like a shot, an injection of something poisonous. But here, in Terabithia, it was impossible to think of anyone else. With a rueful smile, Jess looked up at the tree that he and Leslie had been standing in when she named their secret place. Now covered in snow, it looked vastly different from before… and unless he was very much mistaken, there was something moving in it…

A Squogre? A Fulcher? Jess had climbed into the tree house to apprehend whatever it was, but nearly fell out of it when a booming voice cried out **"MYSTERIOUS DEATH!"** The two words rang out over Terabithia, echoing over the empty landscape.

**"—who in a single hour life's gold can so refine, and by thy art divine, change mortal weakness to immortal power!" **

"Wh—who's there?!" Jess shouted, scared out of his wits. There was definitely some deranged beatnik or something up in that tree, because Jess knew that he certainly couldn't imagine a dialogue so poetic on his own. Crouched in a corner of the tree house, Jess thought the words had sounded like something Leslie might have penned while they were holed up in it…

**"Relax, it's I**,**" **the disembodied voice laughed, now sounding slightly closer. **"Spent with the noble strife of a victorious life, while you watched me fading heavenward through your tears." **And then, lively as a young sparrow, Leslie Burke leapt into view off of a low branch. "Hi there, Jess."

He stared wordlessly at her. Leslie was dressed in a sweater that was even whiter than the snow surrounding her; there were intricately designed golden fringes on the sleeves and collar. She wore a skirt that was similarly styled, with the gold pattern on the hem that stopped just below her knees. Her hair appeared to be its usual color, but (and maybe this was the influence of the wintery atmosphere) it had an almost silver tint to it, like it was shining. As Leslie stepped towards Jess, hands casually placed at her hips and an impish smile lighting up her face, her tall, white boots did not make a sound or an imprint on the snow.

Forget that this was doubtlessly the most radiant Leslie had ever looked in her life—her _life_, which was supposed to have ended six months ago. Leslie extended a hand towards Jess, who was still sitting in the far corner of the tree house. He didn't move his arms, which were clasped around his legs. "W-what are you?" he stammered. "Am I having a really crazy dream? Are you a—a ghost?"

"No, you aren't dreaming, and no, I'm not a ghost," Leslie replied in that tone he was so used to hearing: almost offended, but extremely regal. Her affronted, lovely face suddenly turned into a wide grin as she asked, "Hey, how'd you like the poetry, by the way? You know, the stuff I was saying before?"

"Uh…" It was like nothing had changed between them; Jess was, as always, scrambling madly for words in her presence (a presence he had to strongly question existed outside of his imagination at all). "Fantastic," he said weakly, as Leslie looked so truly excited to hear his opinion. "Real nice. Shakespeare?"

"Nope!"

"It, uh… it wasn't a Leslie Burke original, was it?"

"Nah," Leslie laughed, finally deciding to sit down next to Jess as he refused to stand up. Naturally, he scooted away from her. "What're you doing that for, Jess?" she asked, her eyes soulful and sorrowful. "What do you think I'm going to do to you?"

"I don't know—I don't know, but I know you shouldn't be here right now," Jess answered, on the defensive all of a sudden. His words came out in an angry growl as he added, "You're _dead_, Leslie! You're dead!"

Leslie's lips came together in a thin line, and she looked away with a nod. "Yes, you're right." She tried to remember what Jim had told her before, it had been so well said, but she doubted she'd be able to recount it as well. "In the… strictest definitions of the words, I am—technically—dead. Clearly you believe that. But don't you believe, Jess, that even though I'm not here anymore physically, that some small part of me might have remained here?"

"What do you mean?" Jess asked, confused. "Your ashes are still here, if that's what you mean." The words came out spitefully; he was still upset that the Burkes had cremated Leslie before giving him a chance to say goodbye to her body.

"But see, you're seeing me _now_, and I'm even talking to you! Isn't that better than just seeing the shell I left behind?"

"What—can you read my mind, or what?" Jess queried, unnerved by the fact that Leslie seemed to be able to just get into his head.

"Sort of, yeah. That's part of what being a guardian angel is. Reading your thoughts and knowing what you're about to do before you do it. Like, if you were going to do something stupid I might be able to prevent it."

"Guardian angel, huh?" Jess scoffed. "I've gotta be dreaming. And I gotta stop letting Maybelle force me into watching _It's a Wonderful Life _with her."

"Oh, that's a pretty decent movie," Leslie said lightly. "But it doesn't really get the whole guardian angel thing down right. I mean, the whole idea of an angel getting his wings every time a bell rings is nice and everything, but I don't need wings. I can get along fine without them."

"Sure," Jess said slowly, wondering why he hadn't woken up yet. His dreams never lasted this long. And he was sure that he would in fact wake up soon, which is why he did not want to get all warm and fuzzy with Leslie—being happy with her here like old times, in this dream world, would make it all that much harder when harsh reality came beating down on his door telling him to get out of bed.

"You still don't believe me, do you?" Leslie sighed. When Jess didn't respond, she said, "Slap me."

"Excuse me?"

"Or hit me, or whatever. If you don't really believe in me, it won't hurt."

Jess didn't move, worrying for dream Leslie's sanity.

"C'mon, Jess. Just do it. What, don't wanna hit a girl?" she teased him. "Just pretend I'm Scott, or Gary. Don't be a wimp!"

"I'm not a wimp!" he yelled, kicking her leg. Or at least he had aimed to. But instead of feeling like he'd hit anything, his foot just went painlessly through her leg, as if she was a hologram.

Leslie sighed wistfully again. "This is unfortunate. What can I do to convince you?" But as usual, her mind was on more tracks than one, and before she could ponder the answer to her own question, Leslie produced an old wreath from no where. "So you made this, right?"

"I—" Jess studied it for a moment, then recognized it as the one he had in fact made for Leslie's memorial months ago. "Yeah," he whispered. "I made it for…for you."

"I wish I could have seen it in its original splendor," Leslie remarked, getting to her feet. "But maybe this will help you see I'm not an apparition." She closed her eyes, hands gripped around the wreath as if she was concentrating very hard on something. Then, the wreath shrank down to a much smaller size, its browning needles turning into a magnificent, glistening yellow color. Leslie placed it delicately on her head, where it perched there like a crown. "Thanks for making this for me, Jess," she said, sitting down again. "'The past years brought their harvest rich and fair; while memory and love, together, fondly wove a golden garland for her silver hair.'"

There was a hole that had formed itself in Jess's heart ever since Leslie had died, and despite himself, he felt as if it was filling slowly now. Looking at this incredible angel (he supposed) sitting so casually beside him, he wondered if he might not very well start to cry. Could this really be real? Not…not just a dream? There had been so much he had planned on seeing and doing with Leslie, thinking their lives would go on together forever, instead of hers ending so abruptly. There was _so_ much…

As his thoughts continued in this vein, Leslie blushed lightly. He had forgotten that she had a vague idea of what was going through his head. "Well," she whispered. "That might not be such a bad idea, Jess. Maybe it'll push you off the fence." With a flick of her finger towards the wreath-turned-garland on her head, mistletoe appeared in the needles just over her forehead. She gave Jess an expectant but patient look.

_Even if I am just dreaming…what's the hurt in believing? _Jess thought, biting down hesitantly on his lip.

"There is none," Leslie replied quietly.

Jess slowly raised one of his arms, moving it even more gradually towards Leslie's face (which, like her body, was turned to look at him). He was visibly trembling, as if he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to be able to really feel Leslie or just have his skin go through hers as it had before. But before he knew it, he didn't have a choice: his fingers touched her cheek, and not even a team of wild horses could have dragged his hand away. Leslie's skin was impossibly smooth, almost like silk, making it feel as if she could fall to pieces (or a shroud, at least) at any given moment. However, the look she was giving him in those bright, blue eyes of hers definitely negated that notion.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, actually," she teased him softly.

Jess snorted a laugh, then lowered his palm so that his whole hand was touching her face. Leslie reached up and took it in both of her hands, sighing in satisfaction. "There, you see?" she said. "Mutual belief." She laughed. "Hey, Mutual Belief. That'd be a good name for a band."

"Mmm, I don't think so," Jess said with a crooked smile. In the blink of an eye he had leaned closer to Leslie; he was so close he could feel her warm, shallow breath on his face. Jess's hand moved farther back so that his thumb rested on Leslie's ear, his other fingers half-way in her soft hair.

"I'm not sure how to either," Leslie admitted in response to Jess's thoughts. "But I'm willing to try." She tentatively closed the gap between her and her best friend, letting her lips barely touch his.

It felt sort of like rose petals pressing gently against his mouth, Jess decided, wondering if there was something else he was supposed to do. He had only seen kisses in the movies, and as they were usually not moments he particularly enjoyed watching, he had never paid great attention to them. Now he sort of wished he had; the kiss between him and Leslie was strange and a little awkward …but somehow, at the same time, it was the most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

"Interesting," Leslie remarked, pulling away, though her hand was still loosely hanging on to the back of Jess's shoulder. "Very interesting." Her hair was suddenly, inexplicably glowing, and the silvery light emanating from it distracted Jess from the red that was tinting Leslie's cheeks. Jess was reminded of the scene in _It's A Wonderful Life_ where George offered to lasso the moon down for Mary, saying she could swallow it, and how that would light up the tips of her hair…

"Hey, where are you going?" Jess asked when Leslie got abruptly to her feet and strode over to the tree so she could climb out of the house.

"The rest of the town will probably be up soon," she replied, waiting for Jess to follow her lead and get out of the tree house. "You should go buy your mom one of those books that the store owner put out in that discount box."

"A book?" Jess asked, quickening his pace to catch up with her (she still moved so much faster than him, and the grace with which she did it was so much greater than he had remembered). "I dunno, what do you think she wants?"

"I'll think you'll know it when you see it," Leslie answered, shooting Jess a confident grin. She was walking so close to his side that soon their fingers were brushing together, until Jess had the guts to just close his hand around hers. Leslie smiled to herself but the smile faded when they had reached the stream. Her gaze shifted from the broken rope down to a large rock that was sticking prominently out of the frozen part of the water. Jess was looking at it as well, and their thoughts were synchronized: _Maybe that's the one that did it_.

Jess squeezed Leslie's hand harder, and it seemed to remind her of something.

"You have to promise me something, Jess," Leslie said in a shaky voice. This was uncharacteristic of her, and Jess grasped that this was going to be one of those rare circumstances where Leslie wanted to be serious. "I was sent back here because you…" She struggled to get the words out. "Well, let's just say sometimes the movies _do _get it right. They sent me down to see you because you—you aren't…" Were those tears she was fighting back? "You aren't supposed to join me there yet."

While she was not being entirely cryptic, it took Jess a minute to figure out what Leslie was trying to say. Then he realized that she was talking about how he had sat there on the stream's edge, multiple times, looking up at the broken rope and thinking how easy it would be to follow in Leslie's footsteps … just jump into that icy water and let it do with him what it may, it didn't seem to matter anymore without her. The thought of Leslie knowing he had considered this made the blood in Jess run cold. He was ashamed of the idea, wanted to deny that it had ever crossed his mind, but now of course (with Leslie's newfound, mind-reading powers) that was impossible.

"So," Leslie said in a hollow voice, gripping Jess's hand tighter. "You have to promise me that no matter what happens, you won't tamper with the plan that's laid out for you. Please, Jess. Be everything you can be in this life while it's still yours. I believe in you, I really do."

"Leslie, I don't…know…what I can do without you," Jess responded.

"You'll never be without me," Leslie assured him, walking him onto the snowy bridge. "I'll always be here."

But just as she said that, she disappeared completely from view. Jess panicked, but even more confusion struck him because while he could no longer see Leslie, he could still feel her hand enclosed in his. "Leslie? Where are you, what happened?"

**"Oh, that's right. You won't be able to see me outside of Terabithia."**

"What? Why not?"

**"I haven't got my wings yet."**

"But you said that whole wings thing was all Hollywood."

**"It is, the way they described it. It's not so simple as just waiting for some bells to ring. Otherwise, I would have gotten them while I was working that old one in the church this morning. You've got to earn them. And also, I'm not sure what Jim meant exactly, but it sounds like these wings aren't the type we usually associate with angels."**

"Jim? Who's Jim?" Jess asked, unable to keep a note of jealousy out of his voice. Who was this guy?

**"Nothing to get worked up about, Jess, he's my… uh, supervisor, I guess you might say. He's the one who let me come be your guardian angel." **

"Oh…right…" It felt very strange not being able to see anyone there, but hearing her voice and feeling her hand. Jess was grateful there was no one milling about the streets at this time of day, or else they might have seen him and thought he was talking to himself. When he finally looked around to see where he was, Jess realized that Leslie had led him back to the bookstore. He leaned over the cardboard box under the awning, which had been so full this morning now only had one, tattered book left inside.

**"What is it?"**

Jess picked it up, and saw that it was not one book but a box of them, with one side cut out so you could read all the titles. He turned it over to see what the title read. "Um… 'The Complete Works of Louisa May Alcott.' Who's Louisa May Alcott?" But as he asked it, he could see the name somewhere in his house, on the bookshelf in the living room.

**"She wrote **_**Little Women**_**, that's one of my favorite books!" **was Leslie's excited reply. **"Do you know if your mom likes her?"**

"Well, actually, now that I think about it, I think we do have a copy of that book somewhere in the house."

**"Hey, look! Seventy percent off! That's an insane deal for the day before Christmas, Jess! Get it! Get it for your mom and then… come back to Terabithia and find me, okay?" **

Jess felt the rose petals brush against his cheek, the pressure from his hand gone. She had left, like the wind. Looking doubtfully at the ratty set of books in his hands, Jess sighed and walked into the bookstore to buy them.

As it transpired, the books turned out to be his mother's favorite Christmas gift (as far as presents were concerned, Jess got the bum lot—all he'd asked for was a bomber jacket, but once again was disappointed). The next morning, Mary had acted overjoyed at the home-made crafts from the little girls, and told Brenda and Ellie they needn't have spent so much money buying her a nice new holiday dress ("We pooled our resources," Ellie explained at the same time that Brenda said she wouldn't mind returning it and getting one in her own size). Mr. Aarons grumbled that he was still waiting for his wife's present to arrive ("I'll never trust those stupid online services again"). But when she had opened Jess's set of books, Mary Aarons had the most astonished look on her face akin to nothing her family had ever seen her wear before.

"Uh…mom?" Brenda asked. "Are you okay? You look like you're about to like, burst into tears or something."

"Jess," said Mrs. Aarons, ignoring Brenda's question although she was indeed teary-eyed. "Did you know she was my favorite author? Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved her… her work."

"Er…well, I just thought that…you might, you know, like it."

For the rest of the day, Mary could not be seen without her nose in one of the books in the set, something her family was definitely not accustomed to. She was in the middle of skimming the book of poems by Ms. Alcott when she noticed her only son sitting by the window, staring wistfully into the spot. Marking her place in the book, Mary walked over and sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry, Jess," she whispered, placing her hand on his knee in what she hoped to be a solicitous manner. "I wish she could be here, too."

Jess turned to look at his mother, wondering if she had also possessed the ability to read minds. He shrugged and returned his gaze to the window. "I'm okay, mom," he said honestly. "I think she _is _still here, sort of, anyway. I don't know how to make it make sense, but…she's here."

Mary smiled at him, deeply moved that he seemed to be looking at it this way. She opened the book of poems again, saying, "You know, Jess, I've missed that little girl, too. She was a great friend to you. But since then, I have to ask myself … 'How could we mourn like those who are bereft, when every pang of grief found balm for its relief in counting up the treasures she had left?'"

"Treasures?" Jess asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure, honey. 'Faith that withstood the shocks of toil and time; Hope that defied despair; Patience that conquered care; and loyalty, whose courage was sublime.'"

"Could I take a look at that?" Jess asked, reaching for the book. Mary nodded with a sad smile, handing it over before getting up and leaving Jess to his thoughts. Jess scanned the poem, completely floored. It was as if Louisa May Alcott knew Leslie personally, and had written this poem about her. "No way… 'The great deep heart that was a home for all—Just, eloquent, and strong In protest against wrong; Wide charity, that knew no sin, no fall…'" With a start, Jess looked up to the first few stanzas of the poem and saw that they were the lines Leslie had been quoting to him only yesterday. Reading the page several times over until he was sure he had memorized it, Jess slammed the book shut and raced out the door, yelling to the house at large that he was going on a walk. That was why Leslie had wanted him to pick that book, it was supposed to help him. Help him what, deal? Maybe it would be possible after all… he belted down the snowed-covered path, with each step hearing a different word in his head:

_"The Spartan spirit that made life so grand, Mating poor daily needs With high, heroic deeds, That wrested happiness from Fate's hard hand_." If anyone could wrest anything away from Fate, it would be Leslie Burke. Before he knew it, Jess had crossed the bridge to Terabithia, panting heavily and slowing to a stop. "Leslie?" he called out. No response. "I know now!" he shouted gleefully. "Nothing but the weary snow lies dead!" He heard her laughter fill the air, like wind chimes. It was spiraling down to meet him, and Leslie suddenly appeared. She was wearing the same outfit as yesterday, complete with the golden wreath about her head. More than ever, Leslie looked like a true Queen of Terabithia.

"'Oh, noble woman!'" Jess recited, lowering himself into a bow. "'Never more a queen Than in the laying down Of scepter and of crown To win a greater kingdom, yet unseen!'" He laughed at his own posh accent, and Leslie laughed with him, spurring him on to the final verse, for which his voice became more reverent: "'Teaching us how to seek the highest goal, To earn the true success—To live, to love, to bless…'" He had to blink the tears out of his eyes, for they were beginning to obstruct his speech.

Leslie stooped down to Jess's bowed level, reaching out and wiping the tear from his cheek. "'And make death proud to take a royal soul,'" she finished for him.

Jess felt his mouth twitching into another grin. "Right," he said. "Anyone would be proud to have your soul, Leslie." He looked away to wipe the tears from his eyes himself, and when he looked back, it was to see Leslie in a dark brown, leather bomber jacket that was far too big for her. "Whoa! Leslie!"

"Hey, check it out!" she giggled, turning to inspect one of the sleeves. "I got my wings!" She pointed to the silver medal that was pinned to the jacket in the shape of a pair of wings. "Jim was right," Leslie said, un-pinning it and re-attaching it to her sweater. "These are much less of a hassle than the real thing …what're you laughing at, Jess?" she asked with one of her mile-wide grins.

"Normally I'd think that a bomber jacket would look ridiculous on you," Jess answered, smiling whole-heartedly back. "But I gotta say, it actually looks ridiculously _good_ on you." He felt that "pretty" was not the word that applied here, but it didn't know of any others one could call a girl.

Leslie snickered and shrugged off the jacket. "Great as I'm sure I looked in it, I think it's better suited for your taste." She winked and tossed it at him. "Put it on, fighter pilot. But remember—I've got the wings. Merry Christmas, by the way."

"Right back at you," Jess said, putting on the jacket and instantly feeling warmer. "So does this mean I'll be able to see you? Outside of Terabithia, I mean?"

"I think there are certain limitations," Leslie answered carefully. "I mean, I don't want to get your hopes up. No one else will be able to see or hear me, so we'll have to make sure you're alone whenever I meet you. It may only be this one time a year that I can visit you, I'm not sure… but just know that no matter what, I will always be watching out for you."

"_I _should be watching out for _you_," Jess chuckled, taking one arm out of his jacket. He summoned Leslie to his side, explaining, "You look cold. Maybe we should share this for today."

Smirking, Leslie put one arm around Jess and the other into the free sleeve of the jacket. "You sure are sneaky, Jess Aarons," she teased him. In response to this, Jess kissed her briefly on the lips again. "Hey!"

"Sorry, Leslie," Jess said, unable to contain his glee. "But I think I just figured out _that_ makes me feel like I have wings, too."

"Oh, what a sweet little mortal you are," Leslie laughed, thumping Jess on the back. "Thanks, buddy."

The walked around their kingdom, hand in hand, laughing like the old friends they were. If Jess had been able to share Leslie's talent for mind-reading, he would have seen that their thoughts were once again perfectly in synch:

_"Ere the sense of loss our hearts had wrung_

_A miracle was wrought;_

_A swift as happy thought_

_She lived again—brave, beautiful, and young."_

* * *

**A/N**: There was my sappy little Christmas story I always wanted to write! In case you were curious, the poem that so heavily influenced it is called "Transfiguration," and is in fact by the beloved Louisa May Alcott. Happy (summer) holidays!


End file.
